


Spock's Dictionary of Colloqialisms

by Darkwood_Princess



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, I promise, Somewhere, all kinds of stories, also, colloquialisms, five year mission guys, in the middle, there is a crossover, these are the adventures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 32,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwood_Princess/pseuds/Darkwood_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyday phrases confound even the most creative Vulcan. Spock compiles a dictionary of human phrases during the Enterprise's five year mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Get Your Knickers in a Knot

**Author's Note:**

> You may have seen this on fanfiction.net. It's totally over there too. XD

_**Don’t Get Your Knickers in a Knot: To become emotional compromised over an unimportant and easily resolved matter.** _

Alpha Shift on the bridge was usually a pleasant enough matter, as far as pleasant could be applied to any type of work. The captain, as long as he got a Red Delicious and a cup of coffee, was always cheerful and if Mr. Chekov or Mr. Sulu seemed tired after a late night movie binge or something of the sort, they always put forth their best effort to be cordial. Of course Lieutenant Uhura was always wide awake and professional, the highest praise a Vulcan could award to a human being.

Only one member of the bridge crew was ever cranky, and that could be explained away easily as just the temperament of their resident country doctor.

However to be completely honest, -and Vulcans thrived on honesty- this rosy picture of Alpha Shift would not be complete without the day’s requisite disaster. Even when the Enterprise was just sent to chart stars or deliver supplies to colonies, some new monster or civilization (or in the case of the Gorn, both) would show up and steal away the peace which often filled the early morning.

Today’s disaster came in the form of an abandoned ship just left floating in space. Upon closer inspection, a name could be made out.

“Analysis Mr. Spock?” Kirk called from his chair, swiveling it to stare at the science officer.  
“I believe it is a ship named the,” Spock paused to get a closer look at the readings, “S.S. Botany Bay.” An odd tremor passed through him at the mention of the name, but, passing off the tremor as an effect of the terran air conditioning settings was easier than considering it some form of premonition. Vulcans did not believe in such matters. “From the appearance of the hull and the shape of the ship, it dates from the Eugenics Wars of the 1990s. Perhaps we should be cautious in dealing with such a ship. There may be..”

“Aw relax Spock, don’t get your knickers in a knot.” Doctor McCoy complained as he walked off the lift, customary scowl already in place. “You needed me Jim?” Jim nodded, trying to hide a smile at the brief look of confusion that crossed Spock’s face.

“Doctor. What is a knicker and how does one knot it?”

The bridge was silent for a moment as the crew tried not to dissolve into laughter. Bones let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle and tried to explain the term to his Vulcan crewmate.

“It means don’t get upset about somethin’ before you’ve even dealt with it.”

“Doctor. To become upset is a human emotion, therefore…”

“Yeah, Yeah, I know, you don’t get upset.” Bones waved a hand in the air and walked over towards Jim.

Kirk tried not to laugh at his two friends and leaned forward, “Take us closer Mr. Sulu. Impulse Power only.”

They would later find out that this was easily an event to get your knickers in a knot over.


	2. Can't Carry a Tune in a Bucket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finally crossposting all of these chapters from FFN. This one is based off of the Naked Time.

_Can’t Carry a Tune in a Bucket: Is physically incapable of making melodious noise._

 

If Spock had known that the ensign he brought with him from security that morning as he beamed down to the abandoned post was going to bring back a disease that freed beings of their inhibitions, he would have made the trip on his own. As it is, one rarely has a chance to change the past, even intelligent half-Vulcans.

            That being said, Spock did not believe in wishing. It was illogical and impractical, a waste of time.

            Nonetheless Spock knew his crewmates wished the obnoxious sound of Lieutenant ‘O’Reilly’ , as he had termed himself, would abate.

            “I’ll take you home again Kathleeeeeeeeeeen!” The voice caterwauled across the intercom system of the Enterprise, and Spock watched as Chekov covered his ears in annoyance, trying to ignore the fact that he could not plot a course until Reilly gave back power to the helm. Reilly, fancying himself some Irish king, had taken control of the engine room. Right now, there was an enraged Mr. Scott trying to cut his way into engineering.

            “Oh Kathleen! Kaaaathleeeen!”

            Spock noticed Lieutenant Uhura cringing, a part of him feeling sympathy (despite the illogicity of the emotion) for the musically attuned woman. He knew Nyota disliked any kind of off key music, and Mr. Reilly was definitely out of tune.

            Captain Kirk paced the bridge, back and forth, back and forth. “Isn’t there anything we can do to shut him up Uhura?” He called from where he was standing next to Ensign McClanahan, the woman taking over for Sulu, since at the moment Sulu was in sickbay, recovering from the belief that he was one of the ancient Samurai overlords. The man had rushed onto the bridge waving his katana, missing his shirt, and wearing a mask borrowed from a fan of the old Earth science fiction movies, Star Wars. Spock had been forced to nerve pinch their helmsman in order to stop him from running the Captain straight through.

            “OH KAAAATHLEEEN! And that was my rendition of the Irish ballad Kathleen. Which I will sing ONE MORE TIME!” Reilly’s enthusiastic voice was even starting to bother Spock. Not that he’d ever mention it.

            “Nooo!” Jim shouted. “Uhura shut him off! The man can’t carry a tune in a bucket! He’s sang that song about a dozen times already!”

            Nyota gave him a frustrated look. “I can’t sir. He’s overridden all the communications systems.”

            Kirk sighed. “Can you at least get me sickbay? Maybe Bones has found a cure for this.”

            Nyota shook her head in the negative and Jim looked like he was ready to bang his head on a wall. It was then that Spock decided to voice his opinion.

            “Excuse me Captain. But Lieutenant Reilly has sung this particular song twenty times not a dozen. I fail to understand how his inability to ‘carry a tune’ in a container has anything to do with our situation.”

            Jim sighed. “First off Spock, it’s ‘carry a tune in a bucket’. Not carry a tune in a container. Second, it means he can’t sing, okay? It’s an Earth phrase we use when someone sucks at singing. Like Kevin Reilly.” It was then that Reilly’s obnoxious voice grew even louder.

            “YOUR EYES ARE GREEN! I LOVE YOU KATHLEEN!”

            Spock raised an eyebrow. “Sir, he’s changing the lyrics.”

            Jim looked like he was about to have an apoplectic fit, but it was Chekov, who had wandered over to help, who exploded. The seventeen year old navigator had heard enough, enough of off key Irish ballads, enough of Reilly’s bad voice, and might have, just maybe, been infected with the disease.“I don’t care! JUST. SHUT. HIM. UP!” Chekov thumped the communication console. For a moment there was silence and then, a familiar voice came over the intercom.

            “Jim? Jim? I think I got the vaccine! I think I can fix it! Hello? What the hell’s going on up there Jim? Hello?!?” Jim sighed in relief and reached for the toggle to com sickbay when another, even more familiar voice came back on.

            “Sorry fellas! Only me lucky Irish ballads on this channel!”

            A collective groan went up from the bridge crew and over the next three hours Spock found he fully understood a new concept of life.

            Some beings really cannot carry a tune in a bucket.


	3. Has a Stick Up His/Her Butt

_Has a stick up his/her butt: To be outstandingly haughty and rude when no such emotion is required._

                The woman was lecturing them again. Spock knew that she had voiced every important piece of information precisely three hours, two minutes, and fifty-five point three seconds ago. He knew the Captain had grown tired of her veiled insults to the senior officers’ intelligence after the first five minutes exactly. Jim Kirk did not mind being called stupid, insults did not stick to the human at all, but he minded it when you called his crew dumb. 

                This presumption itself was ignorant. Mr. Scott had invented transwarp, Mr. Chekov was the youngest Star Fleet officer to attend the academy, Mr. Sulu held degrees in various sciences including Botany,  Lieutenant Uhura  was unmatched in Xenolinguistics, and Dr. McCoy was one of the most intelligent doctors in the Fleet, his emotional outburst notwithstanding. Captain Kirk himself was the youngest captain in Star Fleet history, and the captain of the flagship no less.

                “And as you can see, our facilities, though a little above some of Star Fleet’s metaphorical heads, provide value to even the most updated ships. Of course, it all depends on whether the ships are smart enough to accept our help, quite often they don’t come to us because of the expenses. Star Fleet  officers often believe,” and here she glanced at Mr. Scott, who was surreptitiously reaching into the satchel at his side for a piece of gum to make up for his boredom and lack of lunch (emergency repairs on the warp engines), and frowned, “ that it’s easy to fix problems, that they should be allowed to ignore others, and only enjoy the perks of this life.” She offered a smile that even Chekov, the least worldly when it came to women, could tell was fake. Spock found himself glancing at his chronometer. It was logical to listen to a presentation, but illogical to stay any longer than necessary.

                Luckily, the manager of Star Base 82 chose that moment to make her leave, a move which caused various exhalations of relief from the crew around him.  “I thought she’d never leave.” Kirk groaned, leaning against a wall. Standing next to him Lieutenant Uhura and Mr. Scott nodded.

                “Didye see how the lass glared at my gum?! I was workin on the warp engines all mornin, not eatin haggis!”  Sulu clapped him on the back and added his own opinion.

                “Yeah Scotty, that lady sure had a stick up her butt about something. It’s not like we’re complete idiots! Did you see how she pointed out the plants in the botany room, like I had no clue what a daffodil was?” Sulu shook his head in annoyance.

                “Mr. Sulu. I believe you are misinformed. Furthermore, what you are suggesting is physically impossible and surgically implausible. Ms. Carter had no wood in her…” the rest of what he was saying was drowned out by Bones’ laughter. Spock cocked an eyebrow and surveyed the laughing doctor coolly. “Is there something humorous about my comment doctor?”

                Nyota sent Spock a sympathetic look, while Kirk hid a grin, and Bones responded. “Spock, that’s not what he meant. He meant that the woman was bein’ rude to us for no other reason than stupid prejudice. What was funny was you thinking,” and here Bones dissolved into laughter again, “that Sulu meant she actually had a stick up her butt!” 

                Spock would have sighed in exasperation had he been human. Sometimes his crewmates didn’t make any sense. How bodily injury was humorous to them, and to the doctor in particular, was a mystery to the peaceful half-Vulcan.

                “Well, I think ve might as well go have some fun. Ve have to eat dinner vith the wery annoyed Ms. Carter.” Chekov sounded both enthused and resigned. Exploring the base sounded promising, whereas dinner with the manager of the base did not.

                “Where I come from, we call that a blowtoad.” Bones muttered, staring in the direction the woman had stalked off in.

                Spock didn’t even ask.  


	4. He/She Is a Blowtoad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blowtoad is a Southern Colloquialism taught to me by my mother. I understand it's not terribly popular but I swear it is a real colloquialism.

_He or she is a real blowtoad: To brag  unnecessarily about oneself in an obnoxious manner._

                Many of the admirals were intelligent men and women. They kept the galaxy safe by prudently using ships such as the Enterprise correctly, sending the flagship to honor certain agreements or pick up men and women who needed the Federation’s help.

                This admiral was not one of them.  Admiral Gensloid, a balding man of, as Spock would guess late fifties (57 to be exact), was extolling the virtues of his tour of command. Unfortunately the half-vulcan could not ignore the man, since the Admiral was standing on the bridge. Vulcans were always polite, if distant, to authority, even if said authority had been speaking for the last thirty minutes and fifteen seconds on himself.

                “You should have seen how my crew reacted! By Gol, they are the best in the fleet! I commanded them to take us to warp speed six, and they just jumped to it. A credit to their captain they are! Even if they didn’t agree with me, they knew who was right!”

                The rest of the bridge crew went about their business or stared at the man with glazed expressions. Spock could tell by the look of concentration on Mr. Chekov’s face, that the young man was contemplating a rather difficult Sudoku problem from Engineering’s weekly batch, instead of listening to the admiral blathering on three feet from him.  Sulu was focusing on flying the Enterprise, while Mr. Scott, who had been called up from Engineering to greet the man, stared off into space, no doubt wondering how long he would be forced to stay away from his Silver Lady’s engines.

                Lieutenant Uhura was the only one giving the Admiral any real attention, and that was because of the man’s accent. She enjoyed the melody of voices, even if what was being said was less than intelligent. The Admiral’s English accent was thick enough to warrant her attention.  Captain Kirk, who was undoubtedly bored out of his mind, nodded at the appropriate moments and had given up  on stopping the tirade of self glorifying precisely one hour fifteen minutes and ten seconds ago.

                Only one member of the bridge crew stood there fidgeting, and that was normal with Dr. McCoy. He seemed ill at ease in the formal uniform required of the crew when an admiral was onboard, and one look at his face told all who knew him that he was a hair away from just leaving and ignoring the consequences. Spock found himself almost wishing a crisis would occur so that he had an excuse to leave, as the minutes droned on. 

                It was only when the admiral made a disparaging remark about Vulcan officers under him being less useful than his human officers that the bored feeling in the room evaporated.  Two things happened in fast succession.

                One: The admiral earned himself the undying disgust of the entire bridge crew.

                Two:  Dr. McCoy snapped.

                He stomped across the bridge and straight up to the surprised admiral. “Look you damn blowtoad, he may not be the nicest guy to have a conversation with, he may be a fricken calculator, but he’s worth a hell of a lot more than you and your old crew! So shut the hell up!” He grabbed the Admiral by the front of his shirt. The admiral’s eyes narrowed to slits, and Bones knew he was in trouble. But he appeared not to care, as the bridge crew sat silently, shocked but not unappreciative of the outburst.

                “You just insulted the wrong admiral, doctor.” The man said calmly, as Dr. McCoy let go of his uniform. “I can promise you, a reprimand is in order. Captain?” he nodded to Jim who just shrugged like I’m-not-gonna-reprimand-a-guy-who-just-said-what-we-were-all-thinking.  Fury flushed Admiral Gensloid’s face, and the man turned and strode of the bridge, ready to stay in his cabin for the remainder of his trip.

                Spock felt that he needed to defuse the tension in the room. Everyone was staring at Dr. McCoy in various degrees of admiration and shock. He had never defended Spock before, never shown any indication that he even liked the first mate.

                “Thank you doctor for your support, however it was unnecessary. I can withstand the insults of what you term, a blowtoad.” 

                Bones shook his head in annoyance and rubbed a hand across his face. “Look Spock , I just meant that the boasting idiot was frickin obnoxious. There’s no excuse for insulting you just because the man’s xenophobic. Especially since you’ve saved this idiot,” here he nodded to Jim, “ more often than I can count.” Spock could only offer one response.

                “Fascinating.”

               


	5. Jumping the Gun

_Jumping the gun: To act without giving said action careful thought, also, to form an illogical conclusion without giving time for deliberation._

                Spock found that visiting sickbay often resulted in events which, if he were completely human,  would ‘ruin his day’.  However, he merely considered such visits an inconvenience and, as dutiful half-Vulcan would do, completed his tasks with efficiency and calm. Luckily, today he only had to pass the domain that most crew members dreaded, on his way to one of the science labs to receive the weekly progress report.  Normally he wouldn’t have eavesdropped outside the door.  Normally  he didn’t hear Nurse Chapel giggling and loud thumping either.

                “ Come on Leonard, push harder!”

                “God, Christine,” _thump_ , “You ask for miracles,” _thump_ , “ this ain’t easy!”

                “Oh, stop whining,” _giggle_ , “I find this fun!”

                “Darlin’, your idea of fun is,” _huff, puff,_ “ sure entertaining!”

                “Well it’s definitely different than what we normally do!”

                Both of Spock’s infamous eyebrows made a beeline for his hairline, and he found himself lingering outside of the closed door. The two seemed to be the only people in sickbay, and, though Spock sometimes disapproved of the doctor’s emotional outbursts, he had believed the man to be a person of integrity.  A person who at least would know the difference between pleasure and work.

                Precisely two minutes, fifteen seconds, and a turbo lift later, Spock made his way onto the bridge and over to the captain. Jim Kirk was watching the stars fly by as the ship traveled at warp speed towards a shore leave planet. The crew had been without shore leave for the last three months and the admirals had finally deemed it necessary to relieve the crew after the episode with Admiral Gensloid.

                Jim  turned in his chair to greet Spock as the science officer walked over, noting  the subtle changes in the half- Vulcan’s face that signified something was bothering him.

                “Captain,” the steady voice intoned, “ a moment if you please.” Kirk nodded and gave Chekov the con. Nothing too bad could happen in this sector of the universe and Jim believed he needed to hear what was irritating Spock. Quickly the two headed to the turbo lift at the end of the hall. Spock waited until they were inside the lift to begin speaking.

                “Captain, I believe you need to speak with Doctor McCoy about what is and what is not appropriate to do while on duty.” Jim raised one of his own eyebrows and wondered what on Earth Bones could possibly have done to merit this reprimand from Spock. The two argued and complained but rarely brought serious problems to him.

                “I don’t understand Spock. What exactly did Bones do.” Jim asked cautiously. The caution turned to laughter when Spock related verbatim ( from his eidetic memory) what he heard. When Spock appeared disapproving of his laughter, Jim appeased him with an,  “Okay Spock, lets go talk to Bones.” 

                The two made their way to sickbay quickly and were greeted by a disheveled looking Bones. His hair was a mess and his uniform was covered in wrinkles. “Okay you two, what do you need? And don’t tell me one of you has caught the Mulvarian mud pox, because  I swear If I,” he stopped when he saw the smirk on Jim’s face. “What Jim?”

                As the smirk grew on Jim’s face, a feeling of unease ( something Spock would never admit to) grew in the half-Vulcan’s stomach. Something seemed different about sickbay. Ten seconds into Captain Kirk’s round about explanation of why they were there, Spock finally pinpointed the difference. A heavy cabinet, the one contained some crucial equipment, had been moved from one side of the room to the other.

                It all fell into place.

                “Jim, are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?!?! I did no such thing! How could you even suggest that I would, God Jim that’s just, I, argh!” Bones threw up his hands, his face redder than Mr. Scott’s uniform. Spock instantly knew he need to correct his error.

                “Captain, I was mistaken. I misunderstood the exchange between Nurse Chapel and the Doctor as they undoubtedly must have been moving the respirator cabinet, an exercise which causes considerable exertion. My apologies.” Bones’ mouth dropped open and Jim deflated a little. He had so wanted to rib Bones about the kind of thing that the doctor always got him on. Well, used to get him on, now that he was tied to his Silver Lady, that didn’t leave much time for socializing.

                “See, the damn hobgoblin freaking jumped the gun and I get accused of messing around with my head nurse, who by the way I respect far too much to do that to!” Jim tried to hold in his laughter as he noticed Chapel stick her head out of her office and just as quickly retract it, a look of confusion on her face.

                “Doctor, I merely made a mistake, I did not jump over an antiquated firearm as you are accusing.” If Bones didn’t know better, he’d swear Spock was embarrassed.  The tips of the Vulcan’s ears were turning a slight shade of green and his eyebrows were drawn down low over his eyes. 

                Bones just growled out an unintelligible answer and it was left to Jim to explain to a perplexed Vulcan the language of their incensed (rightfully!) CMO. 

                It would be a week before Christine Chapel could look at either Spock, Bones, or Kirk without blushing. Kirk laughed, Bones muttered in annoyance, and Spock just brushed it off as another oddity of humanity.

                He found there were a lot of those.


	6. Up a Creek Without a Paddle

_Up a creek without a paddle: To be in an unfavorable situation without suitable recourse._

                If words could have caused a day to worsen than these three had.

Harcourt. Fenton. Mudd.

                The last time Spock had seen the man, the trickster had been masquerading as Leo Walsh, a man interested in providing wives for ‘lonely men’ and taking over the Enterprise.  Well the Captain had put a stop to that.  Mr. Mudd was supposedly gone for a long, indeterminable amount of time. Preferably in a Federation Prison with an unfavorable cell mate. Possibly a cell mate with a terran name similar to ‘Bubba’ or ‘Chuckles’.

                Of course that was before they had been mysteriously teleported down to the surface of a planet which only registered one life form. King Harry Mudd the First ruled the ‘land’ with his women, his batches of androids, all constructed to his specifications.

                This itself was not the main problem facing himself, the Captain, Mr. Chekov, Lieutenant Uhura, Mr. Scott,  and the Doctor. The problem was that the androids, including one wearing what appeared to be terran sweat clothes, refused to allow them to leave. Harry Mudd, bored with women who could give him anything he ever wanted, needed friends.

                Friends. As if the crew who sent him to jail wished to continue any type of cordiality.

                Mr. Mudd left them to themselves for a moment, allowing Kirk to breathe for a few seconds.  Two of the ‘Alice’s’ attempted to stay behind, but a quick “Go away you creepy robot women” sent them sailing serenely out of the door. “Alright guys, any suggestions?”  Kirk asked, gathering at the random crewmembers taking and realizing they had left Sulu in command of the Enterprise. Kirk hoped the navigator could try to get through to them somehow.  Chekov, the young curly headed navigator, was the first to speak up.

                “We are in deep trouble Keptain.”  Kirk’s eyebrows twitched upwards and he worked hard to reign in the sarcasm that was racing to break through. He turned his attention to his communications officer, hoping to receive a more useful comment.

                “What about you Uhura? What do you think?”  Uhura’s dark eyes narrowed in thought as she pondered her response for a moment. With a delicate shrug she replied:

                “I agree with Chekov. We’re in serious trouble.” Kirk rolled his eyes and turned to Bones. The doctor thought for a moment as well, glancing at Jim’s annoyed face and weighing whether he should remark. 

                “Jim it is my professional opinion that we are up a creek without a paddle.”  Jim looked confused for a moment, annoyed, and then resigned to his best and brightest lacking any sort of ideas. He didn’t even ask Spock or Mr. Scott for their advice, knowing it would probably be something along the lines of the first three answers. 

It was Spock who broke the silence in an attempt to lighten the mood and figure out the meaning of yet another one of the Doctor’s curious vernacular.

“Captain, we must evaluate Doctor McCoy’s eyes when and if we return to the Enterprise.  I fail to understand this creek he believes we are in, and furthermore, why we would embark on such a venture without means of momentum.” He gave Bones the equivalent of a Vulcan look of ‘concern’ (in other words a slightly angled eyebrow and a gleam of the eye which showed he was essaying an attempt at humor).

Bones rolled his eyes, Chekov snorted with laughter, and Uhura grinned slightly. Jim just slumped lower in the chair he was occupying. This was not going to be a good day. 

A half hour later the Captain of the Enterprise was wishing he had never left bed that morning, Scotty was ‘dying of laughter’, and Spock was ‘in love with one Alice but not the other’.  Spock learned that if one was ‘up a creek without a paddle’ the least they could learn to do was swim!


	7. Meaner Than a Striped Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain Nancy Solo and the crew of the Starkiller were inspired by every science fiction series I have ever seen. Nancy is the first character I ever created and as such, is special to me. She is in no way related to the Captain Solo of Star Wars fame. She comes from a universe where Star Wars and Star Trek are what they are to us, fantasy to relieve the monotony of everyday life. Please don’t hate her, I promise I try not to write her as a Mary Sue.   
>  If I have taken too many liberties with Jocelyn Treadway, Bone’s ex-wife, I apologize.

_Meaner than a striped snake: A being who posses unparalleled animosity towards others._

                The Enterprise had spent the last week monitoring a new worm hole on the edges of the Alpha Quadrant when it happened.

                A ship, one of odd design, came tearing out of the black hole at the extremely dangerous speed of what Spock calculated to be Warp 9.9999999999 and 9/10ths. It was of a saucer shaped design, with unique markings, closer inspection of which showed them to be the equivalent of Federation Standard. The Enterprise set off in pursuit of the small starship.

                “Lieutent Uhura, hail that ship!” Captain Kirk ordered, excited at the prospect of meeting this oddity and finally doing something. For the last week, the bridge crew had done nothing but hover and take measurements of the Hajime Hole, as some Federation Official had named it. Now that there was a chance to take some action,  Jim wasn’t willing to pass it up.

                “Aye sir.” Uhura’s nimble fingers danced across the console, her eyes trained on the readings in front of her.  She ran through various channels, attempting to find the frequency the little ship was running on. For a vessel one tenth the size of the Enterprise, the ship was hard to reach.  “Unknown vessel, this is the USS Enterprise, please respond. Unknown vessel,” Uhura repeated this mantra, her steady cadence spreading out across the waves of space.

                “Mr. Chekov, can you tell if there’s any weapons on that ship?” Kirk asked, leaning forward in his command chair as magnification finally captured an image that provided a piece of vital information. The S.S. Starkiller was painted painstakingly on the side of the starship, with neat brush strokes. Scotty’s work on the cameras allowed the detail to reach the Enterprise.

                “Negative Keptain. It’s impossible to tell.” Chekov seemed slightly frustrated that his instruments were unable to provide him with the necessary information. Spock took this as his cue to inform the captain that the vessel was slowing with every minute.

                “Captain, the Starkiller is now down to Warp 8 and dropping. At this rate the ship will lose all power in three minutes, fifteen seconds.” Jim nodded, wondering who was aboard the ship, and about to ask if that meant the life support would go out on the ship when Uhura finally made a break through.

                “Hello? Hello? This is the S.S. Starkiller! Can someone please tell me where I am? No Ben, the red wire! That yellow one’s a dummy. ” a voice with a slight southern drawl shouted over the connection, so loud that Sulu could hear it clear across the room from Uhura’s station. The young communications officer automatically put the voice on speaker. The woman on the other end obviously didn’t know she had reached anyone yet. “Hey, this is Captain Solo of the Starkiller! Someone? Anyone? I know there’s gotta be someone out there! All of our sensors are busted, our engines are failing, and our life support’s going out. SOS! Mayday! Come on! Blast it Ben, hit the _other_ switch!”

                Another voice, one that was calm and cool, filtered over the intercom, “Captain, I believe  Mr. Sage would be more useful helping Dr. Fujiin with the engines. I can take over.”  They could hear the woman sigh, a sigh well known to Kirk as that of a Captain who’s hit a brick wall.

                “Alright Gin, Ben go help Xiao. I’ll keep sending out the SOS.” Kirk nodded to Uhura who was about to ask him permission to continue.

                “Starkiller, this is the Enterprise. How many crew members are you?” Her calm voice somehow reached the chaos that was the starship Starkiller.

                “Oh thank God. Uhm, four.  But hey, by Enterprise do you mean the Federation ship Enterprise?” the voice was relieved and inquisitive.  Spock found this to be a unique combination for one in such a predicament. Uhura just rolled her eyes and continued.

                “We are beaming you out of your ship, Captain Solo. Please standby.” Jim nodded and gave Spock and Bones, who had just entered the bridge, the look that said ‘Come on guys, a new adventure!’. Bones grumbled something about ‘damn wormholes’ and Spock just raised one perfect eyebrow. Vulcans, even half-Vulcans did not get excited. Ever. Even if there was a new scientific principle, namely the function of black holes, at stake here.

                Mr. Scott smiled at the three of them and pulled the transporter switch. The golden lights that signified transporting matter swirled for a moment and then solidified, yielding four people on the platform. Three were boys; a slim blond, a tall humanoid with pointed ears and dark hair, and an Asian in a white lab coat. The fourth crew member was a short teenage girl, with dark hair and no fashion sense. Her illogical colors were already giving Mr. Spock a headache. 

                “Hi.” The girl grinned and strode up to them. She walked with the confidence which comes from command, while her other crew members watched them with curiosity. “Thanks for the rescue, we were on a routine mission to Carpathia IV when this worm hold opened up.”  She shrugged as if this kind of thing happened normally, which, if Mr. Spock had calculated the odds, they seemed to happen quite often enough to the Enterprise.  Jim was about to open his mouth when the girls eyes widened as she seemed to finally take in her surroundings, a new found look of, (was that respect?) found its way into her eyes.

                “I’m Captain Jim Kirk, this is my First Officer Mr. Spock and my Chief Medical Officer Dr. McCoy. Welcome to the Enterprise.” He extended his hand to her and she shook it enthusiastically.

                “I’m Captain Nancy Solo, this is my First Mate and navigator Ben Sage, my Chief Medical Officer Dr. Xiao Fujiin, and my jack-of-all-trades and master-of-all Gin. He’s kind of a one name kind of guy.” She said apologetically. “It kind of comes with being a demon from the ninth level of Hell.” The aforementioned demon nodded his head in response to his captain’s comments, as if this introduction was common place and normal. Dr. McCoy’s face blanched at the mention of a ‘demon from the ninth level of Hell’ , Jim shrugged as if he’d heard and seen worse things, and Spock looked intrigued.

                “Fascinating. May I inquire as to where you and your crew are from Miss Solo.” Nancy threw him a sly look as if she wanted to try something funny. Ultimately some form of sense won over and she stated as simply as possible where she was from.

                “I’m actually from Earth, but a different Earth than you’re used to.  I come from another dimension entirely.” She paused to see if they believed her. At the look of understanding on Jim’s face, after all the man had spent a good portion of several days with a displaced version of his First Officer from another Universe,  and the nod from Spock she continued.  Bones’ look of disbelief she just ignored, as if it were expected. “ Where I come from we have space travel too. In fact, Ben here’s from a cluster of planets known as the Centroid Center. His people are super fast, so his metabolism is ridiculous.” She frowned as if thinking about the amount of food the lanky young man could ingest.

                “ Humans from where I come from, which is West Virginia by the way, so lets get all the hillbilly jokes over with,  can do some odd things.” She paused and then decided that explaining her way was a lot faster and quicker. She put a hand out and, concentrating, let it fall straight through Captain Kirk’s chest. “ My nickname’s Ghost.” She grinned.

                “We don’t know why yet. But I can tell you from experience, the experiments aren’t pretty.” Her face took over a clouded look before she switched the subject. “Ever seen Star Trek?”

                “What?!?!” Bones spluttered. “Huh?”

                “Miss Solo. I believe the Doctor wishes for you to clarify one of your statements.”  Spock stated in a deadpan tone which could almost classify as Vulcan humor.

                “Nah, she’s probably just exploded his head with her incessant babble. What’d we tell you about giving out to much information.” Xiao stormed over and swatted his captain good naturedly on the head. Jim grinned and shook his head.

                “Okay, well, as long as you’re staying in this dimension, you’re welcome aboard the Enterprise.  We’ll just tow your ship behind us back to the Hajime Hole.”  Jim watched as a series of emotions flitted across Nancy’s face, gratitude and home sickness seemed key most there.

                “Thank you,” she told him gratefully. “I promise we won’t get in your way. We just need to repair the Starkiller enough to travel back through that hole. It blew out our hyperspace navigator and what you would call Impulse Engines.” She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes in frustration. “You wouldn’t happen to have a chief Engineer with a bit of spare time would you?” her voice was hopeful and she glanced over towards Scotty who was watching the conversation with interest. Kirk watched him shoot what passed for a ‘puppy dog’ look at him, eyes round and pleading to have access to a foreign ship.

                “I think we can arrange that.”

                A week or so passed and the crew became used to their odd visitors. They were polite and kept to themselves at first. Of course this was before Sulu learned that Dr. Fujiin could fence, Ben asked Chekov to look at their navigational charts,  and Uhura learned that one of Gin’s roles was communication’s officer. Nancy was hard to remove from engineering, an inventor of products as eccentric as her cobbled together ship.  None of the crew members would ever forget the karaoke machine which doubled as a force field generator.

                But as Spock knew humans were wont to claim, all good things must come to an end.

                The Federation found out about the crew of the Starkiller and sent out their foremost expert on alternate dimensions. Once Jim found out what was happening, he called Admiral Pike and threw a Jim sized fit.

                “You can’t send her here Admiral! I don’t care that she’s the best they have! Can’t you send someone else?”

                The answer was of course no, and within the day Jocelyn Treadway, investigator of all events alternate, arrived on the Enterprise.  Spock, who did not understand why so much fuss was being made over Miss Treadway, decided to do some research of his own. Though it was immoral to hack StarFleet’s personnel records, it was not illogical, and it was such that the First Officer discovered the divorce of their Chief Medical Officer to one Jocelyn Treadway, and the case by which she gained custody of the Doctor’s only daughter.

                If it wasn’t illogical to feel anger towards one you had never met, Spock would have felt it.

                The woman was slender and pretty, with brilliant blue eyes and curly blond hair. She frowned delicately at Spock and smiled with honey at Jim who struggled with the impulse to flat out glare at her.  Bones she ignored, as if he mattered even less than the First Officer she was snubbing. 

                Standing next to Bones, who had grown used to the eccentric girl after she had pool sharked Jim out of ten credits, Nancy stiffened like a child caught stealing cookies out of the cookie jar. Her eyes darted to the case in Jocelyn’s hands, as if what was in it would bite her.

                “So where’s this crew of dimensional interlopers?” her voice was soft and sickly sweet, prompting Jim to wonder what Bones had ever seen in the woman. Nancy took a half-step back but, realizing her fear was probably irrational, stepped forward to meet Jocelyn.

                “I’m Captain Solo of the starship Starkiller. It’s nice to meet you mam.” Nancy told her politely, even though a part of her was screaming to shout some rather nice Klingon obscenities she had learnt at a science fiction convention. Jocelyn grinned at her and Nancy cringed a little, remembering similar people in her past with lab coats and needles. When she had mentioned experiments, she wasn’t kidding.

                “Well come with me then,” her voice was suddenly all business like, sharp and crisp. Nancy was swept along in her wake, throwing a last pleading look at the three men as if she wished they would rescue her from this Southern belle.

                “She’s one bad piece of haggis.” Mr. Scott commented, watching her leave and shaking his head in sympathy.

                Half an hour later Nancy had been poked and prodded, interrogated and turned around, until she just couldn’t take it anymore.  Mr. Spock, walking by the room in what others would have called an attempt to eavesdrop but the Vulcan just considered an attempt to gain valuable information as to the proceedings, heard Captain Solo finally break.

                “Could you repeat the bit about your parents again?” This question had already been covered in thorough detail. It was a touchy subject and Solo knew that the woman could sense that. She had had enough! Enough of her badgering about little minutiae, like the top speed of Ben’s heart and the village Xiao had come from in China, enough of the weapons specs on her beloved ship and prodding about her sister Jamie, enough about Gin’s physiology, enough, enough, enough!

                “Look woman, I don’t know what your problem is but you’re meaner than a striped snake! I don’t understand why Dr. McCoy didn’t leave you! My parents may not be around, but they sure as heck wouldn’t want me to put up with a woman who PMS’s worse than a Vulcan on Pon Farr and a wookie who’s been dateless for eight years! Go talk to my crewmates, I’m sure they’ll be more susceptible to your questions.”

                And with that, the girl stood up and strode from the room, straight into Mr. Spock. He raised an eyebrow at her outburst and she colored a funny shade of red and purple that would have made Vernon Dursley proud.  “Meaner than a striped snake?” he queried, watching as her face calmed down.

                “ Means she’s a kriffing jerk Mr. Spock. Now if you don’t mind, I need to go find my crew and tell ‘em to hide from Maleficent in there.” 

                Spock found her continuous references to terran stories confusing but nodded. The girl had earned a respite. Especially when the tape of her explosion that security  made found its way to the desk of one Leonard H. McCoy. 

                A week later the crew of the Starkiller was safely through the black hole and Spock had added another colloquialism to his growing list.


	8. FML

_FML_ : _To face a situation in which one has little chance for favorable recourse._

                Spock was no stranger to the ‘colorful metaphors’ that humans employed. As beings ruled by emotions, swear words were only natural, a way to let loose pent up frustration and anger. Thank Surak, Vulcan’s didn’t deal with _that._

                So it came as a surprise to the well educated and well versed science officer when one phrase in particular eluded his understanding. It started with a shore leave that, surprise , surprise, ended in an emergency beam up.

                “Captain,” Spock’s measured voice cut through the chaos of the screaming citizens, all running from what appeared to be a genetically mutated fire breathing chicken. “ I believe we should comm the others. Mr. Sulu’s fencing skills would be appreciated at this juncture.”  Bones, whose sense of sarcasm never disappeared, elbowed the Captain and muttered a sardonic comment about Kentucky Fried Chicken never attacking him before when he lived in Georgia.

                “What’dya want him to do Spock? Shish Kabob it?” Jim asked, fumbling with the communicator while reaching for his phaser. Not that it’d do much good against Chickenzilla. Where was a Colonel Sanders when you needed one?

                “I was merely suggesting that an extra trained crewmember, and no Dr. McCoy attacking people with hyposprays is not a combat skill, would be useful.” Jim threw him a doubtful look about the hyposprays, but nodded and finally managed to get the communicator open.

                Of course the line was dead.

                “What the heck? Enterprise? Hello?,” Jim sighed in frustration. “FML.” 

                At the time Spock’s eidetic mind was preoccupied with more serious matters, such as escaping the attacking poultry (which went over surprisingly well in the Captain’s report to Admiral Pike) and the thought that he did not understand the Captain’s phrasing, only hit him when he heard it again.

                Hikaru Sulu had a love for comic books that was unrivaled on the Enterprise. It didn’t matter to the young helmsman if they were American or Japanese, any comics would do. He read his way through everything from the centuries old Justice League of America to the most recent Naruto volume (7,000 and counting). So when the Enterprise, diverted from a routine supplies run missed the deadline for his monthly comic delivery, the lieutenant was obviously disappointed.

                “And you know what? Naruto was just about to kick Sasuke’s butt, like the bazillion other times they almost fought.” Chekov was nodding his head like he understood, a habit the Russian had acquired when the two were roommates at the academy.  “FML, man. Just FML. Now I’ll be two volumes behind.” Sulu frowned at his console in a manner the half-Vulcan considered most illogical. It was not the console’s fault that Lieutenant Sulu was unable to continue his amusements.

                And now this.  Spock was not one to eavesdrop, it was undignified and rude to those around him. However he was unable to not overhear the exclamations of Nurse Chapel as she sat with Lieutenant Uhura, Yeoman Rand, and Ensign Gaila.

                “Now he thinks I’m a total idiot! I work so hard to prove that I know what I’m doing and then I forget something as simple as the charge pack for the dermal regenerator. FML.”  Nurse Chapel’s usually calm voice was thick with distress, an emotion Spock rarely saw in the woman during his occasional visits to sickbay. One could only assume that the doctor was upset with her over a minor mistake or that a more serious issue was troubling her. However, that did not explain the odd term, this ‘fml’?

                Spock sat down next to the captain and studied him carefully for a moment. He decided to attempt an experiment. Dropping his fork to the ground, Spock sighed as much as Vulcan could and said in his calm, steady voice “I seem to have dropped my fork. FML.”

                Bones choked on his soup, Jim spit orange juice, and Scotty stopped  eating in shock, sandwich halfway to his mouth.  Spock had only one comment for their expressions.

                “Fascinating.” 

                Later, when  Lieutenant Uhura explained to him the meaning of the term Spock wished Vulcans could sigh in exasperation. Humans and their emotions. Honestly.


	9. Drunk as a Skunk

_Drunk as a Skunk: To be inebriated beyond all measures of reasonable sanity._

****

**_When you give a Vulcan chocolate…_ **

“ Chief Medical Officer’s log, Leonard McCoy recording.”

**_Prepare for all hell to break loose._ **

“ When I catch the idiot who gave Lieutenant Commander Spock the chocolate, they are dead. With the biggest fricking hypo in my medical arsenal. That means you Jim!”

 

Earlier…

            Vulcans knew that humans had multiple holidays, most of which were harmless ways to express their emotions. There were the old terran holidays which differed with region and religion and then there were the lunar holidays and any other excuse to drink alcohol. Of course, as logical beings, Vulcans saw no reason to censor another being’s rituals.

            This was before Ensign Chekov presented the dignified half-Vulcan with a bag full of what he termed M&Ms for the terran holiday of Halloween. Spock, believing that this was perhaps the least obnoxious of human customs, and having never eaten one of the candies before ingested a few.  Well at least he thought it was just a few.

            Chekov, boy genius, had no clue that chocolate was the equivalent of alcohol for Vulcans and, thinking himself a good ship mate, wandered off to share more of his candy spoils with Sulu and Uhura in the mess hall. Spock discovered that M&Ms were ‘fascinating’.

            That and a whole lot of other things suddenly seemed ‘fascinating.

            Ten minutes later, Bones was harassing Jim about coming down for his physical when the door to sickbay slid open and Cupcake stumbled in, clutching one of his arms. Jim jumped off the table and rushed to the man just as Bones was reaching for the proper hypo and tricorder. 

            “Good God man, what’d you do to this arm?” The limb was broken, shattered in several places with worrying accuracy. Cupcake stared at the ground sheepishly, refusing to face the physician. Jim patted McCoy on the shoulder, offering silently to take this one.

            “Cupcake. Who beat you up?” Jim Kirk’s piercing blue eyes managed to make contact when the bigger man glanced up and then back down.

            Cupcake continued to stare at the ground but muttered, “ Didn’t get beat up.”

            “Okay, then what happened?” Jim asked curiously, wondering why the security chief didn’t just spit it out.

            “WasArmWrestlingWithMr.Spock.” It came out in a rush of air, almost as if Cupcake thought they wouldn’t believe him. Bones’ eyebrows shot up in disbelief and Jim looked confused. The thought that his cool, calm Vulcan first mate would do anything as illogical as arm wrestling was beyond him.

            “He’s in the mess hall. I think you should go check on him doctor.” Cupcake muttered as Bones finished with his arm. Jim and McCoy exchanged a look and set off for the mess.

            “I swear to God, that Pon Farr crap isn’t supposed to happen for another year and he better not…” Bones stopped in mid rant when the mess doors opened and revealed what looked like an impromptu rave.

            Lights were flashing off and on, music blaring, drinks flowing, and in the middle of it all was one Mr. Spock, dressed as if he had come off on the wrong end of a cosplay convention. An oversized Viking helmet, disco pants, and what appeared to be a superhero cape and pirates vest were the Science officer’s choice of party clothing.

            Jim stood there with his mouth hanging open as Spock staggered up to them. “Gentlemen, join the party. It is illogical to not have fun when one can.” His serious demeanor was offset by the green flush and chocolate milk mustache splashed all over his face. Behind him a smashed Sulu was singing old Vocaloid songs while Chekov chimed in with an ‘in Russia’ every now and then. Scotty had gotten out his bag pipes and Uhura was accompanying him with lyrics in Gaelic. It looked as if most of the crew was inebriated.

            “Jim he’s drunker than a skunk, what do we do?!?” Bones stared in disbelief as Spock, realizing they did not want to party, stumbled off and started a conga line with Janice Rand and Dr. M’Benga. “And what the hell is M’Benga doing?” The doctor was belting some Vulcan song at the top of his lungs, with accompaniment by the head congo dancer. 

            Jim sighed, realizing that as much as he wanted to join in on the fun, there was no way he could responsibly get away with it. “Well Bones, when in Rome... Why don’t you go join them. I’ll hold down the fort.” Jim backed away, almost glad that he was getting away from Spock, who was spinning a small mess table on his fingers because he couldn’t find any bottles to spin. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t find willing women. Fortunately, the Vulcan was only moderating, even when drunk unable to willingly initiate that kind of contact.

            Bones shrugged and made his way over to the bar, salvaging half a bottle of bourbon from a passed out Keenser. If he was going to stay with these crazies, he might as well enjoy it.

            It was just their luck that Starfleet inspectors, with their random ship checks, chose the next morning to discover most of the crew of the flagship passed out in the mess hall in various states of disarray and crazy. It was then that Spock realized how drunk a skunk could get.

            That and how easy it was for blackmail pictures to be posted all over the ship by a certain grinning, _sober_ captain.


	10. One Hand Tied Behind Your Back

_One hand tied behind your back: To be handicapped or hold back in some manner and still defeat an opponent._

Any member of the crew knew that life on the Enterprise was fast paced, always something happening, from random raids to failed and flawed diplomatic missions. Today, one of the odd occasions that he listened, the captain had taken shore leave on command of the chief medical officer, as he had recently sustained an attack from a creature that seemed half ape, half reptilian, part avian, and all ugly. The captain needed a break from insane aliens, and this planet, with Iowa like conditions, was perfect for some much wanted R and R. This allowed the crew some downtime, of which they took advantage. If called for, one would find Scotty in the engine room absentmindedly eating a sandwich and reading technical journals, Chekov and Sulu fencing in the gym (while Chekov argues that real fencing was _inwented_ in Russia), Uhura on the bridge tapping into some distant radio channels and jamming to music in foreign languages, and Dr. McCoy and Spock.... well they could be found at the bar in the mess hall, deep in some heated _discussion_. 

 A crowd of eavesdroppers and curious-eyed ensigns had gathered around the doctor and Vulcan as they, one calm and the other growing more irate, discussed the subject of survival of the fittest.  

            “ If one species cannot survive, they do not deserve to take up others resources. It is illogical to support those with no future.” The half-Vulcan, calmly took a sip of his water while the doctor spluttered through a gulp full of coffee. 

            “What?!?! You mean you’d let a group of beings die, just because they aren’t strong enough for your standards? What if they were just going through a temporary phase? What if they only need a little bit of help? You can’t just condemn one group because they come in second on the totem pole of power!” Dr. McCoy’s voice raised at least an octave in sound, slightly hurting Spock’s sensitive ears.

            “Doctor, in nature, as demonstrated in every part of the universe, the strongest survive. It may not be pleasant, but it is certain. Think of your own planet. Khan survived to attack us because he was the strongest and the smartest. He and his followers did not survive by providing care for those who were, in effect, useless.”

            “Oh really? I guess that means every time you and the Captain get injured, I should just leave you alone and see if you survive?” Bones quirked an eyebrow sarcastically. “God, I guess it means the next time the crew has sparring sessions I should take you on with one hand behind my back and see who wins.” He rolled his eyes at the confused look on Spock’s face.

            “If you believe you could defeat me, it would be prudent.”

            "Yah, you green-blooded pointy eared hob-gobblin, I could take you with one hand tied behind my back," the doctor laughed. Puzzled the Vulcan logged that piece of information into his plethora of odd tid-bits. He was saved the task of a response, when alarms blared and the red alert lights flashed off and on. All thoughts of rhetorical arguments fled as the two officers ran to their posts. 

            When Spock reached the bridge, the call was just coming in. “I need Spock and Dr. McCoy down here now! Enterprise did you get that? I need them now!” It was the Captain’s voice, thick with worry and frantic with anxiety. “Enterprise?” Uhura turned to Spock, who wondered why she didn’t reply. “Mr. Spock, all our communications have been cut with the surface. We can hear what’s sent, but we can’t respond.” Spock nodded and motioned for Uhura to com the doctor in sickbay.

            “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.”

            Ten minutes later the doctor and Spock were beaming down in the middle of a rolling wheat field. Warm sunlight beat down on their backs as a security team beamed down as well. The area was peaceful, farmland at the peak of the growing season.

            “I don’t see what Jim has a problem with? There’s nothing here.” Dr. McCoy groused, setting off in the direction his tricorder pointed him in. Spock fell in step behind him and shrugged in response. If the captain claimed he was in trouble, he was in trouble. Simple enough.  However, if the Vulcan was in any way prone to doubt, which in this case he was not, the land here seemed exceedingly peaceful.

            Of course this was before a falling tree, poisonous plants, and angry natives took out the red shirts and surrounded him and Dr. McCoy.

            Hustling them off to an underground room, the doctor and the science officer decided not to fight the women with guns. They were beautiful women, with scary guns. Lead was one thing both Vulcan and human held an allergy to. 

            Judging them quickly, the women shackled Spock to a wall and tied Dr. McCoy to a chair. Figuring that the human would be less strong than the alien, they laughed as they tied the ropes and left, off to retrieve their third captive.

            Spock sighed in an almost human manner while McCoy tried to break free of the ropes binding him to the chair. After  4.897 minutes, the doctor managed to free one arm. Spock noticed that this left one limb tied  to the chair.

            “Why doctor, I believe our situation is improving.”

            “And why is that?”

            “Because you claimed to be able to beat me with one limb and I am far stronger than these women. With one hand tied behind your back it should be no trouble.” Spock stated these facts as simply as if he were discussing the weather.

            McCoy’s face turned red in embarrassment and anger as he had to explain to Spock that not only could he not beat him in a fight (stupid Vulcan strength!) but that what he had said was only a human phrase and a sarcastic one at that.

            Spock raised an eyebrow and was about to remark when said women came back with their third and final captive, hogtied and thrown over their shoulders. “Hi Spock, Bones!” Jim greeted with forced cheeriness. “Did I ever tell you guys that it’s a bad idea to make a group of beautiful women mad? Cause it is!”

             Bones and Spock exchanged looks that for once were exactly the same and displayed an opinion easily agreeable.

            “Jim, why did we sign up with you?!?!?!?!”


	11. Clean Out Your Own Chimney

_Clean out your own chimney before starting on mine: Do not worry about another beings problems before realizing one’s own. A form of reprimand._

                Vulcan’s may not have believed in emotions, but they showed respect where it was due. Therefore Spock respected the Captain for his ingenuity, the Doctor for his skills, and all of the other crewmembers for various logical reasons. 

                On the same side of this equation, Vulcan’s understood that some beings may not be the most pleasant creatures in the galaxy, but that they must be respected for their own unique strengths. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations.

                However, Spock was finding it hard to respect the man standing on the transporter pad in front of him. Roger Korby, an elegant and handsome man in his late thirties, stepped off the pad and extended a hand to shake with the Captain. Jim Kirk smiled neutrally, no more liking the man than he had Jocelyn Treadway. Anyone who had hurt his crew were automatically in the Captain’s bad graces.

                Next to him, Spock felt Dr. McCoy tense up. Spock knew that the doctor often let his emotions get the better of him but he hoped that, at least right now, McCoy could stop himself from punching the man who was supposed to lead their archeological dig on Iqbal IV, a planet known mostly for its mysterious ancient civilization known as Deannites. Therefore, it would be rather unfortunate for the doctor to harass Dr. Korby.

                Korby smiled at them as well, offering Spock the customary Vulcan salute and Dr. McCoy a handshake. If the doctor shook a little forcefully, Korby didn’t take much notice of it. Spock did, but neglected to send McCoy a warning glance, remembering the color Nurse Chapel’s face had turned when the senior staff were informed of the famed archeologist’s arrival.  To say she had blanched  and that McCoy was unhappy would have been an understatement, and Spock would know, since even half-Vulcan’s were masters of the art of understatement.

                Since the dig was scheduled a week from the beaming, Korby was informed that he was allowed free run of the ship and full use of the facilities. Gracious and smiling, Korby thanked the Captain and retired to his quarters to prepare for the dinner the Captain was being forced to throw in his honor. Starfleet felt that Dr. Roger Korby was special enough for a full dress uniform, five course meal no holds barred.  The Captain felt that said doctor was only worth a cold turkey sandwich and a can of Coke, the diet kind. As usual Spock had needed to convince the impetuous Captain to follow the regulations for the greater good of the ship and her crew.

                Nonetheless, Spock did not relish the concept of a formal dress uniform dinner.

                A few hours later, he found himself entering the private dining hall reserved for such matters. Mr. Chekov in his gold uniform and Scotty in his plaid dress kilt were already there, discussing the current problems with the ship’s computer. When stopping for a refit at the last Starbase, one that was located close to a planet entirely ruled by Amazon style women, the mechanics, also women, had felt it necessary to give the computer a personality. A female one. The Captain was getting sick of being called ‘honey’, ‘hotlips’, and ‘sexy’ by a woman who did not exist.  

                Spock knew that he was a few minutes early and waited patiently for the rest of the members of the dinner party to arrive. Next in was the Captain, dressed in the green dress uniform he dreaded so much, followed by Lieutenant Uhura in a red flowing, non-regulation wrap, Sulu, with his hair combed neatly and his uniform spotless, Dr. McCoy in his braided blue uniform, and Lieutenant Chapel in the long skirt and cropped jacket of Starfleet’s female dress attire. Dr. Korby, the guest of honor, was last to arrive, almost as if he wanted to appear fashionably late.

                Making excuses for his lateness, playing the role of forgetful professor, Korby snagged the only seat open, the one next to Christine Chapel. Spock watched as the woman’s face tightened slightly but commended her mentally on her emotional control. She was taking her ex-fiancé’s presence rather well for a human.

                Uhura sent her friend a sympathetic smile and Kirk made the requisite speech for a guest.

                Ten minutes into the dinner and Korby had turned all his attention from the other members of the party to the blond woman at his side.

                “So Chris,” Chapel flinched slightly at the use of the personal nickname, but listened to Korby,  “ do you enjoy working on the Enterprise?”

                “Of course. This is the best ship in the fleet.” She replied evenly, pushing her food around her plate slightly. From his position across the table, Spock watched Dr. McCoy frown at the oblivious Korby who continued in a slightly more personal vein.

                “Really, because I have always felt that you would be better off working with a research team. You were far better at computing data than actually working with people. Besides, you used to disdain blood so much!”

                “People change, Dr. Korby.”  Christine said neutrally, hoping that the man would stop bringing up old history.

                “ Call me Roger, please, we know each other too well for that.” The man smiled jovially at her and playfully captured her hand. Christine stiffened, but, knowing the importance of Korby to the mission ahead, did nothing but reply, “Alright Roger.”

                “Besides, you were such a failure with a hypo that I distinctly remember telling you to give up that silly dream of becoming a physician. I know that your mother’s death was the impetus, but if you have no skill, you have no skill. It’s so hard for me to imagine you as a nurse, even now.” 

                Chapel tried to contain her fury and hurt, her eyes begging the Captain to do something. Next to her Dr. McCoy looked just about to throttle Korby when someone spoke up, disregarding the consequences.

                “Look doctor,” the sharp, furious retort came from Uhura, standing up next to Spock on her side of the table, “despite what Christine may have done in her past, she is a phenomenal nurse, and has helped Dr. McCoy patch all of us up a thousand more times than you’ve actually discovered something important. If you wish to discuss personal issues, do it elsewhere, but not here and not now. Clean out your own chimney before you start on hers.” Uhura sat down while Korby stared at her in shock at the lieutenant, anger at being spoken to that way, and confusion as to what he had done.

                Gathering the meaning of the phrase from the context it was used in, Spock found himself silently agreeing with Nyota. Let Korby ‘clean out his own chimney’ before bothering those who neither asked for it nor deserved the humiliation. 

                The dinner went smoothly from there on out since the great Roger Korby took the hint and shut up. Spock, who disliked the occasion, approved of the silence. Somehow this ‘chimney cleaning’ was a fine thing.


	12. Deck the Halls

_Deck the halls: To decorate a building or place excessively for the Terran holiday known as Christmas._

                Of all the holidays Spock knew humans cherished, the one which happened a few days after their winter solstice seemed to have a universal appeal among the species. During this, the darkest time of their year, the brightest sparks of happiness were flamed into what Mr. Scott had termed  the ‘holliest, jolliest, most rambunctious and peaceful time of the year.’  

                Of course afterwards all the ‘holly’ and ‘jolly’ were lost in the attempts to dodge cleaning up the decorations. Any group specifically ordered to work on boxing away the garlands suddenly had work to do elsewhere, were randomly sick, or just plain wandered off resulting in and angry Dr. McCoy (from excess healthy visitors to Sickbay) and halls still decorated in lights, ornaments, and old fashioned tinsel.

                After a week of picking stray tinsel off of his uniforms, Spock wondered if he should just commence the cleaning operation himself.

                Of course, informing  the Captain about the difficulties would be the last step before he resulted in this course of action.

                “Aw Spock, what’s a little bit of left over decorations going to hurt?” Jim did not seem in the least bit concerned that the admittedly non-regulation items were still around. “It boosts crew morale.”

                “Let me point out sir,” Spock continued in his even monotone, “that the crew morale is down, due to Yeoman Rand’s attempts to coerce the crew into cleaning operations.”

                Jim frowned and nodded, finally grasping the truth of the matter. For a minute he sat there pensive, and then?

                “I know!” he grinned, “Chekov, you and Sulu can take off early right now and help Mr. Spock clean up some of the decorations. Recruit anyone you need.”

                Spock would have protested but it would truly have been a waste of time.

                Grumbling to themselves, Chekov and Sulu got up and followed Spock out into the hallway outside of the bridge, they’re first cleanup target.  Spock himself said nothing. It was rather un-Vulcan to complain about the inevitable.

                “Zhey tell us to ‘deck the halls’ and then leave us to do zhe cleaning.” Chekov mumbled, attacking one of the garlands viciously. Tinsel rained down on the navigator’s curly hair, resulting in a chuckle from Sulu.

                “You know, Pavel, someone’s got to do it.” Sulu replied, helping his friend pull on the offending item. Spock raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

                “Who told you to ‘deck the halls’ and how does one proceed to ‘deck’ one?”  Sulu and Chekov tried not to laugh at their commanding officer, especially since he had the power to assign cleaning the whole ship to just the two of them.

                “It means decorating Mr. Spock.” Sulu answered carefully. “It’s an old Terran phrase and part of one of the holiday songs.” Spock nodded thoughtfully. Thinking about their current predicament his only response was:

              “Well then, let us proceed to ‘undeck them’.”

                Sulu and Chekov lost the battle against their laughter.


	13. Be My Valentine

_Be my Valentine: the way humans ask for another's love/company. Requires candy, flowers, and what is known as a 'pickup line'._

Shore leave was less important to the half-Vulcan first officer than it was to his crewmates. Therefore, when the Admiralty canceled the _Enterprise's_ leave for the third time in a row, Spock was not only less effected than the rest of the crew, he was completely fine. Not that he wasn't always fine, just that this particular incident only aroused a muted curiosity for how many times one could cancel leave before there was mutiny. Mutiny was unheard of on Federation vessels, but after hearing an incensed ensign Chekov swear up and down that "Starfleet vas being unethical!" , Spock was .23% more on guard for a localized plot.

Due to the current state of affairs and the lowered crew morale, Captain Kirk made what he considered a particularly clever decision. He arranged a Valentine's day dance to celebrate the holiday the crew was missing. Nevermind the fact that the Enterprise was on the way to pick up critical crops for Sherman's Planet, that Vulcan's didn't do Valentine's day ( or any chocolate giving holiday based on illogical emotions), and that the _Enterprise_ only had one area large enough to hold a ship wide soiree: the shuttle filled shuttle bay. And who did it fall to to make the decisions about duty rosters that night, shuttle storage, resource allotment, and any and all other such related events?

Why Spock of course.

So it was with a non-existent sigh that Spock wished Starfleet had not canceled shore leave.

"So Mr. Spock," Kirk asked, as he walked up to the busy science officer. "Is Nyota going to be your Valentine?" he smirked as he asked, a typical expression on the face of the rather personal Captain. Nyota shot him a glare, and Spock stared at him blankly.

"Why would she be a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius II. One who is related with the notion of romantic love?"

Kirk laughed while Nyota rolled her eyes and the rest of the bridge crew stared dutifully at the screens, trying not to get drawn into the action.

"Spock, when someone says, 'Be my Valentine', they're not asking to be murdered by angry Roman emperors. They're asking you to love them on Valentine's day. To be their sweetheart, give them flowers and chocolate, to pamper them. You're supposed to use all the cheesy pick up lines you know, to, take them on romantic dates, to uhm... be with them, and uh..." Kirk explained, pausing as he ran out of the platonic activities Valentine's day suggested and into dangerous territory. Jim had spent many a Valentine's Day doing more than handing a girl chocolate and flowers.

"That is illogical. Why would one only ask for one day of love and attention? Furthermore, I do not 'know' what it is you wish me to know. "

This time even Nyota smiled, as Jim stared at him flabergasted.

"Uhm, well, on Valentine's Day, some people, well, oh never mind. Just carry on Mr. Spock."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he pondered the implications of the flush on the Captains face, wondering if the Captain was getting ill as he continued to plan the ordered dance.

To everyone's surprise, the dance was a hit.

No one could say Vulcan's didn't understand Valentine's Day and overworked crew.


	14. Madder Than a Wet Hen

**_Madder than a wet hen: To be furious to the point of speechlessness. A not so rare sight in humans._ **

                Spock had found that the admiralty and James Kirk rarely agreed.  Never would he have thought there would have been a time where he and the admiralty had a major disagreement. Vulcan’s did not argue pointlessly, they followed protocol and listened to authority.

                Except when a certain blue eyed someone was involved.

                “Admiral’s Komack and Nogura. I refuse to ‘turn this ship around’ as you so phrase it. As senior officer in command of the _Enterprise_ I am in control of this ship. The captain’s whereabouts are not exact, but they are limited. We will find him. Until such time as his location is verified, the _Enterprise_ will remain in this sector.” 

                Spock ignored the splutterings of the old men on the screen. It was not his fault that the Captain disappeared on the planet run by centuries old Native Americans. If he had been a betting soul, which even half-Vulcan’s were not, he would have put his money on the odd obelisk. The one the Captain had disappeared near.  Of course it was very much like the Captain to touch every unique object the away party came across. It was times like this that Spock almost agreed with the Doctor about enforcing away party protocol with their Captain. They were running out of excuses to give to command every time the Captain touched a love spore plant, a shrinking artifact, or a hallucination inducing priestess, etc. Speaking of command…

                Time wore on as Komack muttered darkly and Nogura was speechless. And then…

                “Mr. Spock, this is unacceptable! You _will_ reverse the _Enterprise_ and you will relinquish your command to the next in line.  If not, you will be court-” the furious voice of Nogura was cut off as the transmission ended abruptly. Fields of stars reappeared on the viewer as Spock raised an inquisitive eyebrow and turned to stare at Uhura, who wore a rather innocent expression.  One that said _why-no-I-did-not-just-interrupt-an-admiral’s-transmission-what-are-you-saying_ . Chekov and Sulu gave her a discreet thumbs up, and Dr. McCoy, who had only caught the last minute or so of the discussion rolled his eyes in annoyance at the powers that be.

                “Madder than a wet hen those lot. I mean come on! Why wouldn’t we try to rescue our idiot captain! It’s not like we haven’t done this kinda thing before.” He grumbled turning around and heading back to sickbay to make sure that when they did find the Captain, he’d have a hypospray big enough to cure the captain of any damn fool disease gained on the odd planet. “Idiot has allergies, what if…? Aw forget it.” The grumbling disappeared abruptly as the lift doors closed.

                Spock puzzled for a moment over the doctor’s odd turn of phrase and threw Uhura a look of what equated to Vulcan confusion. In response, she uploaded a video to his personal pad. A few minutes later, a vid of an angry doused hen, and a Vulcan photographic review of his previous conversation and Spock found a direct correlation between human phrases and antediluvian admirals. 

“Interesting.”

               


	15. You are a Dead Ringer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this idea has been bouncing around my head ever since I realized that Cupid in Xena Warrior Princess and Dr. McCoy are both played by Karl Urban. The plot bunny grabbed me and wouldn’t let go… XD

_You and so and so are dead ringers : To be identical in look, bearing, etc… to another being._

                Spock knew the Captain had a few odd quirks. One of these quirks happened to be a love of 20th and 21st Century television, and a tendency to let this love spill over into everyday life. So it was with an almost human sense of puzzlement that the half-Vulcan attempted to trace the archaic references of his erstwhile Captain over the course of a two month long binge of the two dimensional entertainment source.  (He wasn’t even questioning where the Captain found the old flat screen, it would be illogical to waste useless time in useless pursuits)

                The first few incidents brought relatively small reactions…

                “ Hey Sulu, help Charley Brewster over here clean up the mess left by his paintball team. I mean it’s great that you guys did a team theme of vampires versus zombies, but you can’t let Scotty know that his Silver Lady is covered in red and green because of a rec game. He’d well -” Jim was cut off by a shout of…

                “Captain! There is paint all over th’ Jefferies Tubes! What the bloody hell happened?!”  

                … and saved the response of a spattered Sulu and Chekov and the eyebrow raise Spock felt the situation deserved as an enraged Scotsman took the two bridge members to task over their activities.

                Then there was the undercover operation to the planet Andora…

                “Hey Bones, don’t these people remind you of something?” Jim asked as McCoy wrapped a bandage around his arm. The inhabitants of Andora had an intense dislike of technology, even peaceful medical technology.

                “ The reason I’m a dog person????”

The inhabitants of Andora were also green, feline, tree bound aliens, ones who bore a striking resemblance to the aliens of an old Earth movie about nature and body swapping and had a dislike of ‘space people’. Of course Jim couldn’t help annoying the head priestess unintentionally and annoying Lieutenant Uhura, who had a strong bias towards the native’s plight, on purpose…

“Spock, why don’t you and Neytiri over there brief me on how much dilithium is here? I have to have a convincing reason to stop the Klingons from winning their favor.” Jim grimaced as McCoy tugged the bandage tight and Uhura scowled at him.

“What does that make you Captain? Jake Sulley?”

But none of those reactions were anything compared to the most recent one…

“So you don’t wanna help Chekov find a girlfriend? Come on Bones, the kid’s lonely.”  Jim was whining over the chatter of the mess hall at lunch as Spock took his customary seat next to the Captain and across from the doctor. McCoy was scowling at Jim over his lunch and shaking his head at Jim’s latest scatter brained scheme.

“No Jim, I don’t want to help Chekov find a girlfriend. That is his business and _not_ mine. It’s also _not yours._ ”

                Jim smirked. “Crew morale is important Bones, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Spock?”

                Spock would have sighed if Vulcans considered it polite and proper.

                “Yes, Captain it is. However, I believe the Doctor is correct. Mr. Chekov’s personal life is none of his commanding officers’ business.”

                Jim pouted and threw Dr. McCoy a pleading look.

                “Come on, you’re good at all this psychology stuff. You could find someone for him easy! Plus what would little Joanna say if told her that Daddy wasn’t fulfilling his job requirements…”

                McCoy rolled his eyes and proceeded to ask Jim how he was going to get Joanna’s vid-number and what about chief medical officer meant ‘matchmaker’.

                “ Well, when you look like Cupid, then it becomes your job.”

                McCoy spluttered for a moment and then, “What the hell Jim?!?!”  Spock too raised an eyebrow in confusion. There was nothing about Dr. McCoy that remotely resembled the plump winged cherub of Earth mythology with a penchant for shooting off arrows that only heightened the illogicity of humans.

                “Have you never seen Xena Warrior Princess? You and Cupid are dead ringers. Minus the blond hair. No offense Bones, but you would look stupid with blond hair.” Jim smirked in self-satisfaction as  McCoy stared at him incredulously, deciding on whether or not to lecture his Captain on what was proper to say in public or hitting him with a nasty hypo the next time he came to sickbay. Comparing the one person with the ability to hypo you into the next century with a 20th Century shirtless god character was not what one did if they wanted to remain conscious for the next twenty four hours.

                Spock broke the awkward silence with a question.

                “Captain, I do not understand. What is a ‘dead ringer’? The doctor is living. He also does not sound like a bell.”

                “He better be careful or he’s going to be a dead captain, comparing me with some namby pamby television character in a juvenile attempt to-” the doctor’s voice trailed off as he bit off a piece of his chicken sandwich in an attempt to hold in his annoyance.

                “ A dead ringer is someone who look exactly like someone else. Look,” Jim pulled up a picture of the character in question and showed it to Spock. One eyebrow arched elegantly as Spock compared the picture with the grouchy physician across the table.  The resemblance was uncanny to say the least. As were, as Spock had noted, the Captains other  movie comparisons.

                “Doctor. I believe the Captain is correct. You are ‘dead ringers’. Perhaps you should consider helping him with his plan for Ensign Chekov.”  

                McCoy groaned and banged his head on the table, missing the subtle Vulcan humor as Jim laughed loudly.

                A week later, a very pink Ensign Chekov had a lovely girlfriend by the name of Irina, courtesy of one _very_ coerced ‘Cupid’.


	16. Yolo

_YOLO: A being only lives one life, therefore it is logical to do the illogical._

                “Jim, what the hell were you thinking?!” For once Spock almost agreed with the doctor’s emotional outburst. Almost. He would have been more inclined to humor the Captain had it not been for this week’s scheme and what he was _wearing_.

                Vulcans did not approve of costume balls. They were frivolous, a waste of cloth and supplies, and utterly inane. They were emotionalism at its worst. They were **_illogical._**

                Unfortunately, the militaristic federation believed that wherever a first contact can be smoothed over it should and must be done in the fastest and least harmful way possible. That meant that when a telepathic group of aliens named the Abicedem found a childhood memory of Halloween and would only talk to the head diplomat if he dressed in costume, the head diplomat, ie the Captain, must show up dressed as a fictional character.

                Jim Kirk had even managed to work the situation to his advantage. He and the crew of the Enterprise would throw a party for the Abicedemians in the hope that they would share their dilithium rich mines with them. The Abicedemians, a race of childish academics who loved colorful events and excuses to spend time with others, gladly agreed to the tradeoff. It would be their honor, they said, to experience an alien custom first hand and to sign the dilithium treaty.

                With the treaty already made up and the time and date set, all that remained was for Jim to convince his reluctant first mate and chief medical officer that it was a great idea for them to put on costumes and go party with a group of three legged, six eyed reptilians.

                “ Jim, you may be standing there dressed like, like, I don’t know what are you dressed as?” Bones’ continued as his voice trailed off in confusion and disgust at the sight of Jim’s top hat, long fake black beard, and suit. 

                “I’m Abe Lincoln!” Jim sounded affronted that McCoy couldn’t guess who he was emulating.

                “Right. Whatever.  I don’t care Jim. I’m not going to dress up! We’re grown men for heaven’s sake!”

                Spock raised an eyebrow.

                “Fine, and grown Vulcans too!”

                “ I am only one Vulcan.”

                “Argh! For the love of-”

                Jim shrugged. “ Spock, doesn’t logic dictate that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few.”

                “ Or the one. Yes Captain.” Spock stared at Jim patiently, wondering where this tangent could be heading.

                “And the Federation needs the dilithium right? Otherwise we would stop functioning in like 100 years.”

                “ 99.876 to be precise Captain.”

                “Then is it not logical, for the sake of the Federation, to put on a costume for one night to appease a race which could extend our use of dilithium for another 100 years? The Abicedemians are willing to give us that much.”    

                Even half-Vulcans, especially half-Vulcans, knew when they had been checkmated.

                “What should I wear Captain?” Next to him Dr. McCoy groaned and smacked his hand against his forehead.

                XXX

                “ You asked what I was thinking Bones?” Jim asked the doctor dressed as a cowboy  standing next to him in the turbo lift as he held onto the signed treaty.  Spock, dressed as Surak on Jim’s other side, leaned in slightly, willing to learn more about the curious human standing next to him.

                “I was thinking, yolo. A costume party isn’t the worst thing we’ve ever had to do and it sure beats dealing with these people the way we dealt with the Vians.”  Blue eyes clouded over as he remembered a less than pleasant encounter with a different group of obnoxious aliens.

                Spock tried not to think of the cruel Vians and realized that the doctor’s next outburst explained the curious turnaphrase soon enough.

                “ ‘You only live once’? My god Jim, that’s never an excuse! Admit it, you just wanted to dress up as one of your idols and play goldenboy for an hour.”

                Jim Kirk smiled slightly and shrugged. “Hey, my costume wasn’t even the highlight of the event. Did you see Ensign Chekov’s costume? The kid dresses as Czar Nikolai and suddenly all the girls are glomping him! If I knew that dressing like a King got you that kind of treatment…” Jim trailed off deep in thought about the possibilities as Dr. McCoy elbowed him and Spock just shook his head wondering how a race so young and immature could accomplish so much.


	17. Off His/Her

_Off his/her rocker: To act in an insane or hard to comprehend manner._

                “ So yeah, my name is Hal Jordan and my friends here are Bruce Wayne and J’onn  J’onnz. We’re searching for information on a certain missing person here on Omicell 6. Is there any way you can help us?” Jim Kirk, his hair dyed a dark brown and his electric blue eyes hidden behind green contact lenses smiled brilliantly at the woman behind the police desk. Next to him a similarly disguised Bones McCoy and Spock shifted slightly. Those were not the names they had agreed on when beaming down to Omicell in search of the missing Scotty and Sulu. 

                “I’m sorry, but all of the other officers are busy at the moment. You’re kinda familiar, Hal. Do I know you?” Jim shrugged, his smile still firmly plastered on. Anyone who knew him well enough could tell that he was angry, unhappy at losing men in a territory that treated Starfleet Officers like common criminals.

                “ A lot of people tell me that… Julie is it? Probably my features, a lot of people have them.” He dropped his voice an octave lower and leaned in towards the ditzy secretary. “Are you sure you can’t help us in _any way_?” Spock watched fascinated at what Dr. McCoy called the ‘Jim Kirk charm’ managed to get  a response out of the woman.

                “Weeeellll I could use our database to search for them. You know find whether they’ve charged anything recently?” She stared at Jim breathlessly, waiting for an answering smile of confirmation. Jim nodded and grinned in appreciation.

                The woman searched. 

                Dr. McCoy, whose disguise consisted of blond hair and blue contacts rolled his eyes and motioned Spock to the side. The Vulcan walked with the doctor over to the potted plant and plastic chairs found in every precinct regardless of planet or universe. 

                “Spock. I’m gonna put it lightly to you: is Jim off his rocker?! That little stunt could have completely blown our cover.” Spock raised an eyebrow at the incensed doctor and cast a look back over to the captain who was making more progress than either of them had over the past three hours of searching.

                “ I do not understand ‘Bruce’. All the chairs in here are plastic.” 

                Bones raised a blond eyebrow in disconcerting mimicry of the Vulcan in front of him.

                “Let me say it this way. Is Jim crazy! This used to be an Earth colony before the crazy Anarchist Guild took over. They probably had comic books. Even if they didn’t, just about everyone knows who Bruce Wayne is?!!”

                Spock stared at the doctor with the equivalent of Vulcan confusion.

                “I do not know who that is. I assumed the Captain had found us better names.”

                Dr. McCoy stared at Spock in disbelief and turned, walking back towards Jim muttering the whole way about ‘stupid captains and their first officers and what do you mean ‘who is Bruce Wayne’ ’.  Spock shrugged mentally and walked back towards ‘Hal’ who was just finishing up with Julie.

                “Yeah, I’ll meet you later.  Is 8ish okay?” The ‘charm’ was running full force for them as they exited the precinct and headed towards the last place Sulu and Scotty had been heard from. A few interrogations with the local gangs, a couple of necessary nerve pinches, and a battered Sulu and Scotty later, the five of them beamed up the _Enterprise._

                “What happened?” Nurse Chapel and a group of technicians from Medical were waiting for them on the landing pad. Jim smiled at her, for real this time, as Bones complained for everyone’s benefit about ‘what didn’t happen this time!?!’

                Spock just shook his head and headed for his quarters, curious to find out more about this J’onn J’onnz, the “Martian Manhunter” and why Jim believed he would get any mirth from taking the name. Even when he had explained to Jim that Vulcans did not feel mirth as mirth was an emotion Jim had continued to laugh even after the doctor had smacked the captain in the head for calling him a ‘anger laden, issue filled, freud fiasco! ’ and then proceeded to hit Jim again for picking a ‘cocky flyboy with no sense of self-preservation and an ego the size of Texas for an alternate identity’. He had believed that Spock’s code name was spot on.

                If Vulcans believed in face palming, Spock would have after his research was done.

                “Martian Manhunter indeed.”


	18. On Cloud

_On Cloud Nine: To be extremely happy or emotional, to the point of being physically present but mentally gone._

                Spock knew it had been a bad idea from the start. An idyllic planet, a welcoming populace, 2 weeks of uninterrupted shore leave rotations for the majority of the ship’s crew, yes, the half-Vulcan sensed, there must be something else.

                It wasn’t that the science officer was paranoid, oh no, he had the facts on his side. Every single planet that had conformed to these standards had been, over the last 2 years, had been either a trap, a mirage, or the home of some cannibalistic colonists who thought that Vulcan meat was a delicacy. After Jim’s obligatory jokes about that particular planet’s “good taste” and Dr. McCoy’s indecently emotional bout of laughter, Spock was ready to ignore planets that appeared beautiful but were really just fem fatales in disguise. (Soon enough Jim was too, as the last planet had included women who ate their mates or any who attempted to mate with them). 

                But Circera was too beautiful, too peaceful, and too soon an option after the last 6 months of grueling humanitarian missions for the crew to pass it up. Most of the command crew had left the ship by the end of the first week, taking some much needed rest and relaxation. Spock had to admit, the crew needed this time to themselves. It was fascinating to watch the stress drain out of those who were close to the half-Vulcan, to see them all smile more. Besides, watching the Captain lose a one sided match of beach volleyball to Lt Uhura, Nurse Chapel, Engineer Gaila, and Yeoman Rand was more entertaining than he would ever admit (especially since the Captain’s team had consisted of Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott, and Ensign Chekov).  Even Sulu had protested to Chekov’s strongheld belief that “ Beach Wolleyball vas inwented in Russia!”

                The pleasantries ended there however.

                “Uhm, Mr. Spock, I think we have a problem.” Sulu looked more than a little scared when he approached his CO, a fact which spoke volumes to the watchful Vulcan. Lt. Sulu was almost as fearless as his Captain, so for such an overt expression to be there, a true problem must have existed.

                “Yes, Mr. Sulu?”

                “Uhm, well it’s Chekov and Mr. Scott. They’ve been acting really weird. Like their off on Cloud Nine or something.” Spock raised an eyebrow at the statement.

                “ I have never heard of this Cloud Nine, is it a place or a means of transport.” The look of fear of Sulu’s face, faded slightly as he processed the question, and replied,

                “ I mean they’re acting as if they’ve been infected with no other emotion than a zombie-like state of happiness.”

                “And when did this happen?”

                “It started after they spoke with Kirce. She invited them to dinner, and then, poof! Suddenly they’re all sunshine, rainbows, and lovestruck.” Spock considered the Sulu’s concerns.

                “Is this not how all human’s act when enamored with another?”

                “…”

                “I take it that their actions are sufficiently different. I will attempt to talk to the Captain and Dr. McCoy. Perhaps they will know more about this.”

                Unfortunately only Dr. McCoy remained unharmed.

                “It figures that Jim would let some blame fool witch cast a love spell on him!” McCoy grumped, watching as Sulu’s eyes widened and Spock stared back at him coolly. 

                “You think that woman is the witch from the Odyssey?” Sulu’s voice was full of surprise.

                “No, I think she’s mimicking her. Otherwise, the captain would already be a pig by now.”

Spock tried to follow the doctor’s logic and found it incredibly faulty.

                “Could it be the water, doctor and not the woman? Not every being we meet is mimicking old Terran stories.” McCoy shrugged.

                “ Not the water, air, background radiation, fruit, or ground. I’ve tested _everything_ already. With our luck, she’s going to try to sacrifice Jim and the others to some island god or the other.” Spock considered the crew’s track record, ie the _previous_ shore leaves, and made an executive decision.

                “We need to retrieve the Captain.”

                A fight with a cackling witch, her island slaves, and, in the end, their own team mates, later, Spock gained a new respect for Engineer Scott’s ability to rig up impromptu defenses, Chekov’s aim, and Jim’s undying stubbornness for a cause.  He also had quite a few greenish bruises, attesting to the struggle it was to save those three from themselves.

                “It was a good thing that Mr. Sulu thought to stuff our ears with wax. Otherwise we might’ve fell for her too.” McCoy was telling him, as he ran a dermal regenerator over the Vulcan’s right arm. One of the natives had actually bit him, prompting the normally sickbay avoiding Vulcan to seek out the doctor.

                “ Yes. However, was that not used on a different part of the Odyssey?”

                “Who cares Spock, as long as it worked?” Spock pondered that for a moment and let it go. However, he had one more question.

                “Doctor, is there a disease known as Cloud Nine? I believe it causes ‘zombie-like happiness’?”

                Bones tried not to laugh.  


	19. Swears On a Stack of Bibles

_Swears on a Stack of Bibles: To emphasize most emphatically what one believes is the truth._

                It started relatively simply.

                A little stiffness. An added grumble. A discreet cough, hidden in the crook of a blue shirted arm.

                Spock would have noticed all of the symptoms had he not been preoccupied. The _Enterprise_ was going through quite a few problems at the moment, more so than usual (and that was saying something, what with the Gorn, Khan, and Triskelions all in two short years). The captain was currently arguing with a being who claimed that he was omnipotent, immortal, and in full control of their destinies.

                Jim Kirk’s belief in no-win scenarios extended to swaggering aliens with a devout belief in preordained events and power over others.

                If they hadn’t been so busy worrying about the madman traipsing all over the ship, materializing impromptu mariachi bands and freezing crewman like popsicles, someone other than Christine Chapel would have noticed that one Leonard McCoy was falling ill rather quickly.

                It was late in the ship’s night when the call came in.

                “Mr. Spock, would you please report to sickbay with the Captain?” Chapel’s voice was thick with worry, an emotion the competent nurse usually hid. Spock felt a shiver of apprehension, one he would never admit to having, ghost across his spine.

                “Of course Nurse, is there a problem?”  A beat of silence, a stretching of tension.

                “It’s Dr. McCoy sir. He’s… well… you need to be here right now.”  Spock stiffened.

                “Acknowledged. We will be there immediately.”

                Jim was easy to rouse. In fact he hadn’t even been sleeping when the knock gently broke the silence in his room.  He had been pacing, trying to calm down after finally dispatching their dimensional interloper. It had taken more time than he would have liked, and he was still worried. What kind of being that putting humanity on trial was a good idea and who was this Jean-Luc guy?

                “Come in. Oh hey Spock, what’s up?” At the solemn look on his first’s face, Jim felt his night get even worse.

                Sickbay was empty at this time of night. A single heart monitor beat quietly in the darkened land between the healthy and ill, and Jim felt himself shivering as they walked through the silent rooms. Normally Bones would be there to greet them with a grumpy hello or a rumpled frown.

                They moved quickly, neither one comfortable in the semi-lit sickbay. Once they reached the source of the heart monitor, both stopped short. There was McCoy, unconscious and pale as death. The only indication that he was still among the living was the steady rise and fall of his chest, moving in time to the thrum of the heart monitor.

                “Oh Bones.” Jim sighed, leaning over his friend, confused and shocked at the doctor’s condition. Spock found himself unable to turn away from the sick man in front of him.  The doctor was known for being impossible when it came to taking care of himself, notorious for being the worst patient on the whole ship. But to think that two of the people who considered themselves his close friends wouldn’t have been able to notice this?

                “Oh good, you’re here.” Christine Chapel and Dr. M’Benga appeared almost silently out of one corner of sickbay, the former carrying a stack of pads, the later a couple of hyposprays. Jim automatically snapped into Captain mode, his most common defense mechanism. Spock knew that Jim was almost as good at suppressing emotion as he was, that the blond put on a show for others, a show of stupidity and arrogance to shield the caring person he was at heart. 

                “What happened Dr., Nurse?”

                M’Benga ran a tired hand through the fro that was starting to grow after many long months without a decent barber on the ship, and fixed the Captain with a calm look. “ Leonard was fine until a couple of days ago. Christine and I noticed him starting to slow right around the time the whole ship got into that uproar with that quasi-god, whatever his name was.” M’Benga frowned unconsciously, thinking about what a pain it was to defrost Ensign Chekov.  Christine picked up where he left off.

                “Dr. McCoy swore on a stack of Bible’s that he was alright, that it was nothing. He promised to get some rest and take a preventative hypo. We thought he’d be fine but then… yes Mr. Spock, what is it?” Christine blinked blearily staring at the upswept eyebrow with practiced patience.

                “Why would the doctor wish to ‘swear on a stack of Bibles’ if he were ill. What does this accomplish?” Everyone stared at him blankly for a moment, before Jim broke the silence.

                “It means that Bones promised he was okay, even though he wasn’t Spock. Continue Nurse Chapel.”

                “ He collapsed not ten minutes ago. The three of us were having a meeting, discussing changes needed for some of the crewmember inoculations.”

                “At two in the morning, Nurse?” M’Benga shrugged in their defense.

                “We don’t always get around to things in an orderly fashion Captain. It was late and Leonard suddenly collapsed. We started running tests, and well.” Chapel looked down at the ground, expression one of quiet horror.

                “Dr. McCoy has xenopolycythemia. It’s in its early stages, but it progresses relatively quickly, leaving the patient in agony for months before finally killing them. I’m sorry Captain, but there’s no cure.”

                “No.” Jim’s voice was choked, full of emotion. For once Spock did not feel that the display was unwarranted. Contrary to common belief, Vulcan’s did feel and right now, Spock did not trust himself to speak.

                “I refuse to believe that. We can’t just let Bones die!”  Anger, sorrow, helplessness, Jim was always an open book, an easy read to those who knew him well enough.

                “ Captain, even with all our medical advances,” M’Benga’s voice was patient, devoid of the shell shocked quality the others felt, “ we can only prolong his life. Not save it. I wish there was another way.” It seemed that just like starship captains, doctor’s found ways to hide their emotions too.

                “We will find a cure!” Jim pounded the wall next to the biobed in frustration. “This is all medical will work on from now on, alright?” Christine was looking at him in pity and Spock knew, that work as hard as they might, there was no escaping the truth.

                Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this one is kinda depressing. I promise the next one won’t be. Just stick with me! So, the other day I watched “Encounter at Farpoint”. I like The Next Generation, but Q especially. That and I was reading one of KCS’s fics about destiny, and Q just begged for a cameo. Hmm… I agree with her, I think Trelane and Q are the same entity… Poor Bones. Whenever I feel bad I always put on “For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky”. It helps to know that even great characters can have bad days.


	20. Burning the Midnight Oil

**_Burning the Midnight Oil: To stay up late for a worthy cause._ **

Weeks passed by in a blur. Starfleet refused to allow the _Enterprise_ to do anything for their sick Chief Medical officer other than make him comfortable and send them research on the disease. The research was redundant, as all the information available was already in the ships databanks.  

                True to his word, Jim refused to let medical work on anything other than the little data they had for xenopolycythemia. Unfortunately, little information plus hard work, meant few results. As Nurse Chapel and Dr. M’Benga had told the captain, they could make Leonard comfortable for a short amount of time before the disease became stronger than the medicine.

                Spock watched in growing horror as the man who had slowly become a friend and trusted colleague writhed in pain before him, his body turning against him slowly but surely. Those close to Spock, a select few, could sense the changes in the half-Vulcan. Some indicators were more visible, the stronger than usual avoidance of sickbay, the tightening around the eyes when the Dr. was mentioned. Others were more subtle, a loss in weight, a tendency to stay closer to the Captain. As for Jim…

                He was in sickbay everyday, checking on one of his best friends.

                At first McCoy was lucid, awake and grumbling.

_“I’m a doctor, not a bedwarmer. Let me up!”_

 He had participated in the research to begin with, working against the clock to try and help himself and the millions of others affected by the disease. Jim had held out hope that they would find a cure, that Bones would pull a miracle out of his hat like he always did. That didn’t last long, as McCoy entered the next stage of the disease within a month of that first diagnosis.  

                He had lain in a bed in a corner of sickbay for a week now, trembling and racked with constant pain as his blood cells refused to work properly. Some days were better than others and McCoy would try to get up and help out with the quickly reaching a deadend research.  Most days, however, he wasn’t lucid, a high fever that the nurses fought to bring down sending the Georgia native into delusions.

                Spock had seen the Captain sit through several of these fever enhanced nightmares, watched as the man was broken over and over by the pain the doctor carried in him. If Spock had ever doubted the emotional control of the passionate doctor, he realized that what those around him saw was only a fraction of what Leonard McCoy carried. 

                Every patient lost, every moment Spock or Jim or Sulu or Chekov or Scotty or Uhura or even Chapel could have died, every memory of his failed marriage and father’s death seemed to torture the stalwart doctor. A cruel telepath couldn’t have picked a worse disease.

                Jim ceased to be surprised when Spock sat across from him on the other side of their ill friend, ceased to be surprised when the two of them sat long vigils that ended just short of their bridge shifts.  They had tried to keep McCoy’s illness a secret outside of sickbay, but even on a starship the size of the _Enterprise,_ word got out.  The crew wanted to do something for the man who cared for them in good times and bad, wanted to show their care for him. So it was the little things that they did, knowing they could do them well.

                The Engineers made a conscious effort not to blow anything up, knowing that injuries would only tax Sickbay’s limited resources.

                The communications depart returned official replies with frigid responses, often giving cryptic answers in the hope that Starfleet would take the hint about their feelings over saving the doctor’s life.

                The science department  never complained about the long shifts they pulled in search of a cure.

                The ship’s kitchen worked extra hard to provide better meals to the working scientists.

                Jim knew that Spock would wake him should any changes occur during their long stays in Sickbay, and often found himself falling asleep at Leonard’s bedside. Spock knew that the doctor wasn’t the only one in need of a friend right now.

                It was during one of these lengthy waits that Jim hit upon their only chance to save Dr. McCoy. The lights were dim that night, and, in a half-sleep stupor, Jim found himself imagining a different Vulcan sitting across from him.  Jolting upright, Jim had raced from the room, Spock right on his heels.

                “Captain! What are you doing?” The voice held that hint of uncertainty that in Spock spelled panic and confusion. The tired Vulcan was stretched just as thin as his Captain, and he was unprepared at the present to deal with the doctor’s sickness _and_ the Captain’s impulsiveness. 

                “Spock! I have it, I know where to find the cure!” Spock raised an eyebrow, wondering if the Captain might be sleep walking or delusional. Jim just rolled his eyes. The two of them were standing outside of Lieutenant Uhura’s  quarters, adding to Spock’s confusion.

                Jim barely waited for Nyota to open the door before excitedly launching into his request. Uhura, dressed in her pajamas and half-asleep, snapped  awake quickly as she contemplated what Jim wanted her to do. A half hour and many transfers later, a line to New Vulcan was established and a familiar yet different face filled the viewscreen.

                “Greetings, I assume this is important?” The gravelly voice would have sent shivers down Spock’s spine if he stopped to think about it. Uhura stared in curiosity at “Ambassador Selek” , while Jim just fidgeted nervously. SpockPrime was their last hope.

                “Jim, what has happened?” Jim bounced on his toes, not wanting to find that maybe there really was no cure. The elderly Vulcan’s eyebrows knitted together in what might have passed for concern.

                “Bones is… ill. He has xenopolycythemia.” His voice came out in a rush, as he stared at the face of a friend, hoping against all reality that he hadn’t found his first no win scenario. A look of pain entered  SpockPrime’s eyes as if reliving old memories.

                “ I had hoped that some changes in this universe would be for the better. The Dr. McCoy in my universe faced the same disease.” Spock raised one of his eyebrows at this reminder that their lives may have been irreversibly altered, yet remained in many ways the same.

                “Is there a cure?” Jim’s voice was quiet, quieter than the two other beings in the room had ever heard him be.  Silence reigned as SpockPrime paused to respond.

                “Yes. There is a cure. I take it you have not found Yonada yet?”  The atmosphere in the room lightened considerably. 

                “No, who’s Yonada? Do they have the answer?” Jim felt some of his energy returning, his sense of purpose becoming renewed.  They would find this Yonada person, and then Bones would be better and…

                “It does not matter James. I will give you the chemical formula for the cure. The timeline will stand the strain.” SpockPrime’s voice interrupted Jim’s thoughts, “ I owe the Dr. McCoy of my universe many things. It is the least I can do to help out your doctor. He has much to learn yet, and many years still to grow into the man he can become.” SpockPrime gave Jim that not-smile Vulcan’s perfected at Jim’s look of confusion.

                “Do not assume that it is only you and young Spock there who have still to reach maturity.”

 _A couple of hours later_ …

                “ We’ll be burning the midnight oil to finish it, Captain, but we’ll get it done! By God, we’ll get it done!” Geoffrey M’Benga’s voice was excited as he answered the Captain’s hail to the science labs. SpockPrime’s cure was taking longer to manufacture than they had first believed. It was a complicated medicine, and only the ship’s brightest were working on it.

                “Captain, disregard Dr. M’Benga’s comment. He is obviously tired. We have no oil here to burn. I would assume the Dr. has been reading too many 19th Century novels again.” 

                “It’s a figure of speech, Mr. Spock!”

                Jim tried not to laugh at what indicated that even Spock was in high spirits. The vaccine arrived a day later than planned, but as close to perfect as could be imagined. 

                Jim watched with happiness as his friend was cured of what was supposed to be a terminal disease, as McCoy blinked and woke up from what felt like one long nightmare, a nightmare that began several months prior. 

                “Welcome back, Bones.” 

 Spock had never seen his Captain’s smile as wide, and, even tired from the long weeks and the double shifts put into synthesizing the cure, Spock found himself exhibiting that not-smile his other self did so well.

“ It’s good to be back. How’d you guys figure it out?”

Spock and Jim shared a look, with Jim just smirking at his recovered best friend.

“We’re just awesome that way.”

“JIM!!”


	21. Having a Cow

_Having a cow: To freak out unnecessarily over certain events._

Wide blue eyes stared at him in disconcerting familiarity from the floor of the transporter pad. Normally those eyes were a dark hazel, the color of freshly tilled earth and not the azure of a summer sky. Jim stepped back a pace, shock at the change evident on his face. The man before him was thin, not emaciated but definitely far from overweight. Gray touched the familiar brown at the temples, and the wry smile cast his direction spoke more clearly than words just exactly _who he was_.

                “Bones?” Jim asked with confusion induced consternation. Next to him, Spock raised an eyebrow in the equivalence of Vulcan shock. The man before them was at least 15 years older than their chief medical officer, yet he was unmistakably similar. The laugh that issued forth from the man was the same hearty, yet sardonic sound and as he pulled himself to his feet, the posture was oh so familiar; a chronic slouch that years of service had not managed to erase.

                “I take it Scotty got the wrong co-ordinates then.” His voice was a touch hoarser, less deep than their McCoy, and his eyes held emotions that Jim couldn’t quite read.  How had this happened? It was a routine beam up from just another colony being aided by the _Enterpise._ There was nothing down there that could possibly have caused this. No mysterious ore, no wild god machines, no tantrum throwing Trelane. Could it really be just the consequence of mistaken co-ordinates? Or was this McCoy theirs and just aged a bit? But then, the eyes…

                “You are taking this quite well, Sir, considering your usual dislike of teleporters.” Spock’s cool voice filtered through Jim’s jumbled thoughts. He was staring with veiled curiosity at the man in science blues, blues that were definitely more pastel than the navy color worn by their science personnel.  McCoy shrugged and smirked at the two of them.

                “You get used to this kind of thing after a while. I may not like my atoms being scattered across space, but if I get to help people in the process, well, maybe it’s slightly worth it.” He stepped down from the transporter pad. “Well, are ya’ll gonna stare at me for an hour or are we actually going to do something. I’d like to get back to my world you know.” Spock’s other eyebrow flew into his hairline.

                “What makes you think this is another world?” Jim asked the unspoken question.

                “Besides the fact that you’re taller, blonder, and blue eyed Jim?  The technology here.  I may just be an old country doc, but I know  that my _Enterprise_ doesn’t have a teleporter room this advanced. Heck, compared to my ship yours is light speed’s ahead, and I haven’t even seen the bridge or Sickbay yet.”  The matter of fact tone spoke of too much experience with alternate realities. “So if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get home. My Jim and Spock are probably having a cow over where I’ve gone. If they’ve even noticed yet.” The smile that accompanied that was slightly sad and Jim wondered what exactly had happened to this McCoy to make him wonder if he was needed.  

                “Am I to understand that humans where you come from are capable of producing bovines through reproduction?” Spock’s voice held that slight note of confusion that made Jim want to giggle madly at his XO. He usually held it in since it wouldn’t help their nacent friendship if he gave into hysterical laughter everytime Spock misunderstood some facet of the English language. This Leonard McCoy seemed to have no problem with laughing though. His face split into the widest grin Jim had ever seen and he laughed as Jim wanted to.

                “The more things change the more they stay the same.” He said through chuckles, almost reaching out to pat Spock on the shoulder and thinking better of it. It seemed that he understood the boundaries that his counterpart did as well. “ It means that I don’t think they’re pitching much of a fit over me being gone if they haven’t realized it yet.” Spock raised his eyebrow again ready to ask how exactly ‘pitching a fit’ could be done when Jim intervened for the sake of his first officer’s sanity and his own self-control over laughter.

                “Nah, I think they’ll miss you pretty quickly. Because if you are here, then our Bones is… there.” Jim’s words slowed as the realization hit him. “Frack!”

                 

 


	22. Ugly as Homemade Sin

_Ugly as Homemade Sin_ : _to be exceedingly distasteful in appearance._

                Jim Kirk and Mr. Spock frowned as they waited for the ship’s surgeon to materialize. Normally the captain would be on the bridge, but today McCoy had been visiting a colony that needed quick medical supplies and Jim wanted to be there in person to check on his friend’s emotional status. McCoy may act prickly on the outside, but anyone who knew him well enough knew that he was a big softy once you got past the spikes.  

                “I dinna know why the transporter is taking so long.” Montgomery Scott’s consternation spilled into words as he pulled levers on the machine’s panels, trying to get it to hurry up. All there knew that the last thing they needed was to give McCoy a reason to hate the transporter more than the Georgia native already did.

                At last the tell-tale swirls of light coalesced into a being who stumbled shakily off the transporter pad. “Damn machine always screwing with my atoms.” The gruff voice belonged to a relatively young man dressed in a dark navy variation of the Starfleet uniform that neither Jim and Spock had seen before. The man’s head was bowed as he brushed dirt off his sleeves, keeping the two of them from getting a proper look at him. 

                “Sir, who exactly are you?” Spock’s calm voice cut through the grumbling of the visitor and seemed to hit home that the man was not where he needed to be. The dark head snapped up and seemed to pin both men in place with annoyed hazel eyes.

                “I’m Dr. McCoy, who do you...” the voice trailed off as he recognized the two men before him. “Aw hell. Tell me I’m not in that blasted mirror universe again! Well, you don’t have a beard, so maybe not.” He stepped up to Spock boldly giving him a critical once over before turning to look at Jim.  His eyes widened comically.

                “Just how many slices of chocolate cake have you been sneaking past Rand, Jim?” Jim wasn’t sure whether to scream or laugh at that. This man was so blatantly Bones that it wasn’t funny, yet he wasn’t at the same time. This McCoy was younger, more raw, and filled out in places that there’s was not. It was still the same wiry strength, but with what looked like actual muscle to back it up. That and the comment about his weight stung more than he wanted to admit. He’d lost a couple pounds in the last month, thank you very much!

                “ Is that how you speak to your Captain!” Scotty had been all but forgotten in the chaos of this different McCoy’s arrival and his remark brought them back to reality. McCoy had the presence of mind to look sheepish and turned to reply to Scotty.

                “My Jim Kirk is a lot younger, rasher, and to be honest, thinner. So I have to speak like that to him or he doesn’t listen! ,” he turned to Jim and added “I’m sorry sir,” in a contrite manner which Jim knew was a step away from thinly veiled rebellion, “if you can’t take the truth.” 

                “It seems a mix up has occurred.” Spock’s  calm baritone yet again diffused the situation. Jim wasn’t sure yet whether he wanted to smack this version of one of his best friends or take him to get a drink and find out just how different his world was from the one Jim lived in.

                “You think?” came the sarcastic rejoinder, as the man crossed his arms and tapped a foot impatiently.  Spock suddenly knew, as illogical as it may seem, that this was going to be a looooong day.

                XXX

                “Your _Enterprise_ is a lot shinier than mine is.” McCoy said with a grimace as the older man was shown the bridge. Jim figured that everyone on Alpha shift already knew that they were in an alternate universe and that it couldn’t hurt too badly if the doctor got a small tour. 

                “What do you mean?” Jim asked, glancing at the familiar stations and giant viewscreen. It didn’t seem particularly shiny to him.

                “Well, for one thing, our bridge isn’t done up in chrome. Ours is blue, orange, and tan. It’s also just a tad bit smaller.” The sarcasm was hidden under the polite tone and Spock found himself wondering what kind of bridge would be done in such ridiculous colors. He sighed mentally as the bridge members noticed the guest and tried to ignore him studiously. Chekov and Sulu were failing spectacularly as they kept sneaking peeks at the doctor from their stations.

                “Orange?!” Jim bit back a laugh at the thought and waved at the crew in general. “Alright everybody, Bones kinda got switched for his counterpart from another universe, so be nice okay?” Spock felt his eyebrows disappearing into his hairlines at his captain’s tactless announcement.  Silence reigned for a few seconds and then disappeared as quickly as it had come.  Spock wanted to roll his eyes.

                Humans.

                XXX

                “Dear god, you’re sickbay is ugly as homemade sin!” Jim felt himself sighing and wishing for his Bones instead of this caustic, younger doctor.  He wondered what had happened to make his already grumpy friend, even more cantankerous and at such a young age. Part of him was secretly starting to assume that if he’d met the doctor as a boy he’d have been the same grumpy, unsmiling man that stood before him eying the gold mesh blankets of sickbay with such distaste. He almost shuddered at the thought of mini Bones. Next to him, Spock raised an eyebrow in what Jim knew by now as consternation.

                “What exactly is homemade sin, doctor? I am familiar with the idea of homemade goods, but not homemade misbehavior.” The comment stopped the man’s rant about the technology in the room (Jim was a little miffed, sickbay _was_ state of the art even if he didn’t visit it often) and resulted in the first grin either of them had seen break across the surly doctor’s face. He started laughing so hard that he sat down on one of the beds he’d been disdaining just a moment ago. 

                “Oh Spock, you’re the same hobgoblin that’s for sure!” Spock’s Vulcan training caught the frown that threatened to slip out before the muscles could even begin the motion. It seemed that regardless of the universe he was doomed to be considered a ‘hobgoblin’.

                “It means that he finds our decorating scheme less than pleasant, Mr. Spock.” Jim stepped in when the doctor had finished laughing. He sat down next to the man and put an arm around his shoulder. “So Bones, you want to tell me more about your Spock and Jim?” McCoy stiffened at the contact and at the familiar nickname.

                “ You really are him, aren’t you.” He murmured quietly. Jim looked in confusion at Spock who just stood there, waiting for McCoy to say more. “He admires you, wants to be you, thinks that his life would be so much better if he was you.” The voice was low and tired, as if so many burdens had been lain upon shoulder as yet too young. “Thanks to that other Spock, Jim has this foolish idea that he must be the glowing captain in that half-Vulcan’s memories. From his descriptions, that must be you.” He turned his head towards the man sitting next to him staring at him in shock.

                “Other Spock.” Spock’s head was tilted in curiosity. McCoy looked up at him and grinned wryly. For the first time in their short acquaintance Spock saw most clearly the Leonard McCoy he knew shining through.

                “ So no, I can’t tell you about my Spock and Jim. Because if I do, who knows what will happen? Who knows if the events in your timeline that play out and create ours will happen? As screwed up as our world is, I don’t want to give it up. I won’t.  So as much as my Jim wants to be a man he shouldn’t even know about and my Spock thinks he must be more Vulcan than Surak, I can’t tell you about the mess that is our universe.” He stared at his fingers, leaving the two of them with knowledge that neither knew how to process.

                “Surely it’s not all bad?” a tentative voice called from the doorway. Chekov hadn’t meant to announce his appearance at all, as he’d only been passing by when he stumbled upon the conversation. Two heads whipped up to stare at him, one staring in consternation, the other in Vulcan passivity. 

                “Oh kid, you have no idea.” McCoy smirked wryly, looking up at the navigator. “But you’re right it’s not so bad. We’re younger, all of us, to the point that the last time I saw you this morning you were only 17. It seems here you’re at least old enough to shave.” Chekov looked curious and, at the captain’s nod, entered further into sickbay.

                “But we’re not stupid and we’re not weak. We’re making our way the best we can. And like I said to Spock there, some things don’t change.” He grinned. “For instance, I bet that your Uhura has a beautiful voice, your Sulu loves fencing, and your Scotty has a forbidden still hidden somewhere in engineering.” Spock’s eyebrows hit his hairline and McCoy winced, hoping he hadn’t gotten the Scotsman into trouble.

                “You’re still young for your post, Chekov, and probably still believe that everything was made in Russia. Spock still hasn’t learned to chill out from what I’ve seen, and Jim? You still have that same grin that says you’ve done something mischievous and it’s about to blow up in your enemy’s face. Don’t think I didn’t notice you slipping Admiral Finnegan a little too much tobasco in his soup at lunch today. I may be a doctor, but I ain’t blind.”  He smiled at the look of shock that flitted across Kirk’s face.

                “Right now, as much fun as this has been, I just want to go home.” He said simply, staring at all three in turn. Spock nodded and turned to leave.

“ I believe I may have a solution to your problem.”  

XXX

The older McCoy tried not to sigh in relief as Scotty, Chekov (and since when had _Chekov_ become so _young_ ), and Spock figured out the fastest way to send him back to his world. The science they were discussing at such rapid pace had left him out of the loop and in the end he had just sat next to Sulu and listened to the helmsman go on and on about his latest pet project, something to do with collecting antique firearms. Leonard didn’t want to dissuade Sulu from the idea and at the same time wanted desperately to tell him about an event from a recent shore leave that resulted in imaginary black knights, guns, and samurai. In the end he settled for an admonition about being careful what one wished for that left the helmsman more than a little confused.

Leonard McCoy had never been so happy to see the inside of his _Enterprise_ ’s transporter room in his life and was even more surprised by the sudden hug that Jim enveloped him in.

“Bones! Did you know it’s possibly to be more acerbic than you usually are!”

“JIM!”

XXX

“Doctor, that was a most enlightening experience.” Spock stared at their McCoy as he happily wolfed down dinner in the mess hall. Jim was still trying to realign the two McCoys in his head, the one who seemed better settled in his own skin and the one scarfing down fried chicken and guzzling iced tea.

“You bet your pointed ears it was! Did you know the _Enterprise_  I ended up on had the worst replicated food I’ve ever had the displeasure to eat? This stuff is gourmet compared to their food, and you had to stick a card in a slot to get theirs.” Spock raised an eyebrow and gave a minute shake of his head.

Jim laughed and patted his friend on the back as he reached for the piece of chicken closest to him. McCoy swatted his hand away and fixed him with a serious look. “Trust me Jim, you do _not_ want to eat that chicken or any of that cake on your plate. Have I got stories to tell you…” 

Spock just shook his head again as the two grown adults traded insults that would have been fine for children and not grown men. Life was back to normal and as illogical as it was, it was comforting.


	23. Cold as a Frog's Behind

_A Place/Item/Person is Cold as a Frog’s Behind: to be extremely frigid in nature or being._

                It was cold.

                Three simple words explained Spock’s (and by extension the Captain and the landing party’s) current situation. It not only described the diplomatic meeting they were attending, it described the temperature of the room, and the dishes being served. The Wonsnam were an unemotional race, but unlike the Vulcans, had no emotions to subjugate with logic. They were beings of pure logic and, if Spock were warm and thinking properly, he would have been thinking about how this was what he was actually aiming for in life. Unfortunately, the Wonsnam were also beings of ice and snow, creatures not completely unlike the snow monsters humans had such irrational fears over. 

                “What Ffffleet bureaucrat ttttthoughttt tttthis was a ggggood idea?” Seated next to him, Leonard McCoy picked at his soup. It was blue, slushy, and, surprise, surprise, freezing. His teeth chattering, lips turning a color blue not too far from that of his soup, the doctor looked pitiful, but it was the First Officer himself who looked the worse for wear.       

                Spock’s normally pale skin was tinged a sickly green, his ears almost the color of Captain Kirk’s favorite pastel uniform shirt. His breathing was coming out in longer and longer gasps as the cold affected him worse. Dark brown eyes were heavy lidded, gazing around himself in muted curiosity as the last time he had been this cold, he had at least had warm clothing. The Wonsnam didn’t allow coats on any but their leaders for some reason, apparently the garments on others offended their ancient snow gods. Spock couldn’t help but wonder if said religion had a problem with gloves. His fingers felt like they were going to drop off and were shaking slightly. At least Vulcan’s didn’t shiver as terribly as human’s did.

                “Are you all right, Mr. Spock?” Chekov’s cheerful voice interrupted his musings. Out of the entire group Chekov alone seemed to not have a problem with the cold. His enthusiasm was seemingly endless and he had managed to greet the Wonsnam happily, as if they were long lost snow monster cousins. Next to the Captain he was the beings’ favorite. He almost had enough energy to correct the young man if he said his endurance had something to do with being Russian. Almost. 

                “Wwwhat do you thhhink Chekov? This place is cccold as a frog’s behindddd!” McCoy’s chattering comment struck a bit of cold induced fancy in Spock. Perhaps he could study the temperatures of amphibian rears in comparison to their other body parts and write a paper on it. It was a testament to how far gone he was that Spock was contemplating trying to prove one of McCoy’s odd turn of phrases scientifically correct. He let out a very un-Vulcan snort at the thought of how such a ridiculous study would be received, particularly by the new Vulcan Science Journal.

                McCoy and Chekov turned to stare at him, with McCoy swearing angrily when he finally stopped thinking about his own freezing condition (he was from the nice warm state of Georgia, thank you very much!) and took in the state of the first officer. “Dammit, he’s getting hypothermia! JIM!” The doctor was yelling for the Captain who was engaged in a heated discussion with the daughter of the head Wonsnam.

                “Typical Jim,” was the drowsy comment that came out of his mouth before he had time to stop it. McCoy gave him an even more shocked look and reached for a communicator.

                “Diplomacy be hanged, I warned him about this!” McCoy’s voice seemed to float to him from a great distance as he began to close his eyes. He was so tired now, couldn’t the others finish this meeting without him? There wasn’t much left to be done, just a consolidation ceremony. Surely Jim could get through one ceremony without him. A great rattling brought him back to himself as concerned hazel eyes met his sleepy brown ones. “Spock you gotta stay awake okay? I can’t help you if you don’t stay awake.” The gentle voice was so different from the caustic wit he was used to and for a moment he wondered why he had to be ill to see the kinder side of a person he considered a friend. 

                “SPOCK!?” Jim’s voice filtered through as he raced from where he had been sitting, nearly slipping on the icy floor in his attempt to reach him. Spock almost frowned at him, the panic was most unwanted when all he needed was a little sleep. Just a small rest. Jim’s face slipped in and out of his view, frantic and drawn until he finally gave up and all went black.

                He woke to the soft drone of sickbay and the hushed voices of the Captain and Chief Medical Officer. “ I asked him Bones, I asked him if he would be okay with the cold. He told me he would be fine! Why didn’t I see this coming?”

                “It’s not your fault Jim. Okay, maybe the bit where you were off gallivanting with the leader’s daughter was, but _we all_ should have been paying attention, not just you. I was too wrapped up in my own selfish miseries to see it too. The only one who noticed was Chekov.”

                “Remind me to find some extra vodka for the kid, the real stuff.”

                “Jim he’s underage!”

                The conversation was cut short by Spock announcing he was awake. Never had he seen two grown men look so repentant and, if they hovered over him for a few weeks after the incident, Spock tactfully said nothing. Though he did get a strangled laugh out of the Captain when he, quite seriously mind you, inquired how cold exactly a frog’s behind was. His proposition that -2 was a viable temperature was met with a guilty look and the offer of an apology chess game.


	24. Mad as a Hatter

_To Be Mad as a Hatter: One is mentally damaged beyond possible repair._

                As a child, Spock had read many, many terran novels, mostly at the request of his mother, Lady Amanda. Due to this exposure and a wonderful eidetic memory, Spock could quote you whole passages of children’s books, everything from _Treasure Island_ to _Winnie the Pooh_. (Though one could hardly ask the stoic first officer to recite the trite tales of a stuffed bear and not come off looking like a bit of an idiot, Jim’s giggling aside).

                Maybe, if Spock was so inclined, he would recite for you _Alice in Wonderland_.

                Because at this moment, the illogic of life on the _Enterprise_ was worthy of the fabled story.

                It began rather simply…

                _Three Hours Earlier_

                “Keptain, there is an issue vith the navigation console.” Chekov’s puzzled voice spoke up from among the ambient noise on the bridge. Jim swiveled to look at the young navigator, wondering what exactly it was that the wunderkind couldn’t fix on his own.

                “What’s the issue, Ensign?”

                “Our star charts are no longer accurate. They are reading places I have never even heard of!”

                “Such as?” Jim frowned, asking the obvious question as Spock glanced up from his station, curiosity in his dark eyes. The ship had just left Starbase 18 where they had undergone a systems refit. He had personally checked all the systems. They should not be malfunctioning and definitely not this quickly.

                “Tatooine, Corellia, Coruscant, and a place I think may be Dagobah?”

                Jim rolled his eyes. “Someone’s playing a prank on you Ensign. Those places are fictional.”

                “Da, I know this. But I cannot fix them. Every time I attempt to alter course, the ship fixes itself on the coordinates for what is labeled Mordor.”

                “Okay, Uhura call Scotty in Engineering and have him come to the bridge. He should be able to fix it.” Uhura nodded and turned to send the message, her fingers hovering over the proper buttons. As she pressed them a frown creased her pretty face, alerting everyone, but Spock especially, that something was now wrong with the communications systems.

                “All intra-ship channels are malfunctioning, except one.”

                “Which one, Lieutenant?” Jim’s voice was calm, almost amused.

                “Channel D, sir.”

                “Well, open Channel D then.” The amusement had turned into a chuckle that Spock didn’t understand. He mentally shrugged it off, attributing it to the Captain’s whims. There were many. Very many.

                “I… Captain, this is weird-”

                “Why, did you got ahold of Illya Kuryakin or something?” Jim’s chuckles were back and Uhura frowned at him.

                “No sir, I’m getting this,” She put what was coming out of the ship channel on audio, blasting the bridge crew with a song that made even the ever peppy Sulu and Chekov cringe. It was something about a drive with friends, kicking the backseat, and the special attention given to the day Friday. Personally Spock assumed it was some juvenile way to remember the order the days of the week came in.

                “Turn it off, Uhura!”

                “I can’t sir!” Uhura’s fingers frantically pushed at communications buttons when the song ended and another came on. Uhura recognized the language as Korean before the English chorus proclaimed “Heeeyyyyyyy Sexy Lady,” much to Jim’s inappropriate snort of laughter and Spock’s raised eyebrow.

                “Lieutenant, may I?” Spock leaned over the console, attempting to help her and having the same amount of luck with it.

                “Sulu, we need to head back to Starbase 18. If we can’t plot a course, we’ll just have to move backwards.” Sulu nodded and attempted to follow Jim’s orders. His incredulous stare when it didn’t work gave Jim the first indications that something worse was wrong with the ship.

                “Captain, it seems we can only move forward. There is no reverse.”

                And then the antiquated Harlem Shake played from the speakers, complete with flashing, stroke-inducing lights when the bass dropped.

                Jim was not pleased.

XXX

                In an attempt to escape the chaos on the bridge, and because Jim figured that he, Spock, and Bones could grab Scotty and figure out something to fix this together, Jim entered the turbo lift. His first officer was right behind him, walking as calmly as if every day the Macarena played from the ship’s speakers and the ship set its own courses to places that one most likely would never want to visit. The ship had moved on from Mordor to a place called Hueco Mundo. Jim didn’t even want to guess where that was and, judging by Sulu’s expression when he saw the course change, didn’t want to go there. The helmsman had said something about Soul Reapers and ghosts or something or other. Nope, Jim had plenty of ghosts in his life already. No need to add company for George and Amanda.

                “James Tiberius Kirk?” Jim rolled his eyes in annoyance, realizing that the turbolift was ‘speaking’ to him in a creaking voice.

                “Deck 6.” He hoped that the lift would comply.

                It didn’t.

                “ You have great courage in your heart. You are loyal, brave, and trustworthy-”

                “I already know this.” Spock raised both eyebrows at his captain’s flippancy and got to work rewiring the lift so that it would actually move.

                “Don’t interrupt me young man. Or I’ll put you in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor.”

                “Uh, what!?” If Vulcan’s indulged in humor, Spock would have been laughing at Jim’s confused and affronted expression. Harry Potter had been one of those series his mother had forced him to read. Of course his ego heavy Captain would not want to be associated with the simplest of the houses.

                “ Yes, I am the great sorting hat and I will-” the lift was interrupted by its own doors opening and setting them on Deck 6. If Spock hurried out of the lift, Jim didn’t notice as he was too busy arguing with the machinery that ‘one did not just get put in a wimpy house when he was Captain of the starship and could dismantle said lift turned sorting hat’. Finally Jim gave up and followed Spock into sickbay, only to find a ticked off Dr. McCoy.

                “I touch anything metal in this room and it sounds like a game of Operation gone mad!”

XXX

                In the last three hours Spock had seen everything from the dining replicators producing nothing but ‘Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters’ and ‘Gloid’ to the quartermaster’s room filled with superhero costumes. Fortunately the ship ran out of its spandex stores quickly. There was only so much space to stack garish one piece colored suits.

                Any attempt to communicate with the computers resulted in snotty remarks. Apparently the computer A.I. believed itself to be Sherlock Holmes reincarnated. As Spock was the only with the patience to deal with the sarcastic replicated personality, he found himself in a position of quite un-Vulcan frustration. The A.I. had promised that if he solved enough riddles, he could have access to one part of the computer and one part only. If Spock could only reach the coding programs for the ship’s main structure, he could correct the chaos around him. Next to him, Mr. Scott was steadily ripping out circuitry, attempting to bypass the new personality and free up the system that way. As he worked, he muttered to himself.

                “This is why I don’t let them damn Starbase techs touch my lady. They made her mad as a hatter!”

                “Mr. Scott, I would rather you made sense when the ship is making none.”

                “Have ye never read _Alice in Wonderland_ Mr. Spock? You see there was this crazy-”

                “I have Mr. Scott. I am merely protesting your anthropomorphism of this vessel. It has no mind of its own and therefore cannot be ‘mad’.”  Spock did not want to deal with the emotional Scotsman’s outbursts at this particular moment in time.

                “Now look here, Mr. Spock. We say our systems catch bugs, and, way back when technology was a wee babe, we called cyber attacks viruses. If that isn’t a hallmark of a living thing, I don’t know what is!” The affronted burr gave Spock an idea. It had been obvious from the start that the ship’s computer banks were being targeted and activated, particularly the earth culture sections. There had been no accounts of wild sehlat noises and Vulcan literature’s denizens attempting to control the ship.  

                Spock was grateful that this was so. Vulcan villains were rather unmerciful. Cracking the final riddle, Spock beat Scott in maintaining a limited amount of computer access. Then he did the only logical thing possible at the moment.

                He coded in a virus which would delete the entire database of earth culture on the ship.

                Instantly silence reigned. It had never been more welcome.

                On the bridge the communications system crackled to life. A tired Uhura slapped the button, as a frantic voice spilled out for the exhausted bridge crew to hear and curse.

                “ _Enterprise_ , come in _Enterprise!_ This is Commodore Clear of Starbase 18. One of our techs accidently loaded an experimental technical weapon onto your ship! Turn around. I repeat turn around. The weapon is armed and dangerous!” Jim, who had returned to the bridge sometime during the whole fiasco, took the call from his chair in the center of the now blessedly quiet bridge. His response was short, as was his temper after his ship had decided to act like a cultural convention gone mad.

                “You don’t say.”

              


	25. Butter My Butt and Call Me a Biscuit

_Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit: An exclamation of surprise of the highest order_.

                Spock was, by most crewmen’s estimates a patient being. He put up with a wild child of a captain, a mercurial chief medical officer, and what was quickly becoming the dynamic duo of minor misbehavior that was Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu. He dealt quietly and efficiently with the upper echelons of Starfleet’s bureaucracy, never letting Jim know just how much of the Captain’s paperwork that he siphoned off to save the man from his monster migraines, and was one of the few beings in the known universe able to pull Montgomery Scott away from the ships engines long enough to get him to initial and approve important requisition forms that would have probably been buried on the man’s desk for the remainder of the five year tour. (Scotty was notoriously tactile but not notoriously good at filing forms)

                Anyone could see that Jim ran the ship, but Spock made it run smoothly.

                Unfortunately, even Spock had his limits, those often being related to dealing with beings that did not observe even the smallest amount of propriety. In this case, it was the interstellar group of wanderers who Starfleet believed merited full run of the _Enterprise_ on a three week trip from their most recent home to their new one, a Starfleet colony where the brilliant but eccentric group would be doing agricultural work for a couple months before moving on to the next colony. Their techniques were revolutionary, but they were rather… interesting.

                Jim called them Space Hippies.

                Spock felt himself almost inclined to agree. Especially when one of the women, a young girl dressed in flowers and tie dye print who apparently once _attended_ Starfleet, attempted to alternately hug him, feed him chocolate, and place a lei of orchids on his neck in front of the entire bridge crew. Apparently he was attractive enough to merit her attention. Unfortunately, Vulcans had a well-known desire for personal space. Obviously these people did not.  

                (Nyota didn’t like her much either, but that was an entirely different story).

                After his multiple polite refusals, Spock was nothing if not polite, the group had taken to calling him “Herbert”, their term for people who were too tightly wound. If Spock were human, he would have been perturbed by their illogical nickname. He could not understand why a common gentleman’s name was an insult, and said as much to the continuing discomfort of the bridge personnel who were being forced to sit through this fiasco. In an attempt to salvage the situation, and because he felt that it was probably a bad idea to let an entire group of people insult his first officer and get away with it no matter how important to Federation science they were, Jim offered to prove that Spock was just as “Un-Herbert” as anyone could possibly be.

                The head hippie played a guitar like instrument and had it strung over his back. Taking inspiration from this, Jim had then bragged about Spock’s skill with a Vulcan harp. Suddenly Spock was signed up for a “jam-session” that he had not intended to join.  Jim’s expression had brooked no excuses, and so the half-Vulcan found himself sitting in one of the rec-rooms, about to play a concert with a group of people who were more likely continue laughing at him than stop. But the captain had insisted, so Spock dutifully played his harp, improvising when needed. His nimble fingers danced over the strings, plucking and pulling to whatever tune was required. Slowly, ever so slowly that Spock didn’t even notice, the other players pulled back, until he was the only one still going.

                Silence reigned after he stopped.

                Val-John, the leader of the ‘Travelers’, as the group called themselves, stood up, turning to look at the reserved first officer who was attempting to patiently put up with their shenanigans. For a moment his face was blank, as much a mirror of Spock’s as anyone would ever come close to. Then he smiled widely, turning to his flock and exclaiming,

                “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, this brother here can play! Jimmy-boy was right!”

                “That’s Captain Jimmy-boy to you!” Came Jim’s relieved rejoinder from the back of the room. At least now he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone ostracizing Spock and stopping up the ship’s business. It was surprisingly easy to disrupt the flow of a starship’s internal equilibria, and confining members of a Starfleet sanctioned group to the brig for dogging his first officer was one way to mess up a ship. The stunned crewmembers and Travelers finally broke out into applause, while Spock raised an eyebrow in confusion.

                “Sir, what would that accomplish?” He asked the leader tentatively, watching as the man turned to him in confusion. Spock watched as Jim tensed up, knowing that the young man was hoping that he wouldn’t just ruin the progress made with his insatiable curiosity.

                “Huh?”

                “Buttering your backside and calling you an edible bread. How does that relate to my skill?” His question was asked in honest curiosity, but Val-John in his infinite strangeness took it as a joke, a sign that Spock was asking for more praise, and slapped the half-Vulcan on the back while extolling his praise of Spock’s playing. Spock himself stiffened, but let the matter drop. It was a good thing for the man and his followers that they were brilliant, otherwise such actions would have received a far stricter reprimand. Furthermore, there were only two weeks and 3 hours left of these people’s visit. If the Traveler’s suddenly found ways to drag Spock into playing his harp over the next two weeks, he ignored it for the sake of ship peace.

                What he did not ignore was Dr. McCoy’s raucous laughter when he later asked Jim for an explanation of the Traveler’s leader’s words. Apparently there was no way to politely ask about the meaning of spreading butter on certain parts of one’s anatomy, at least without facing the brunt of the doctor’s insensitive laughter.

                Some days a part of Spock that he would never acknowledge wanted to see the doctor attempt speaking colloquial Vulcan and see how far he got.


	26. Scare the Living Daylights Out Of Me

_To Scare the Living Daylights Out of a Being: To terrify them to the point of incoherence_.

Spock found himself in the middle of the ship’s night, walking through the corridors with a rather disgruntled Chief Medical Officer. Leonard McCoy was neither a morning person nor an evening person, he was, as he would put it, ‘just a person thank you very much and one who values his beauty sleep’. Had Spock been more confident in their slow growing friendship he would have responded in the affirmative, claiming that the doctor needed all of it. As it was, he was still slightly uncomfortable (though he would never admit it, as discomfort was an emotion) to be around the doctor alone. The man was an emotional kaleidoscope broadcast in full color, with transmissions that never quite stopped.

To be honest, when McCoy had requested that Spock accompany him to the brig at this late hour, the First Officer had been more than a little suspicious. His suspicions were confirmed when McCoy had casually commented that Jim would be pissed off if he found out that the two of them were visiting the prisoner. But in the name of science, both medical and otherwise, another sample of ‘John Harrison’s’ blood was required. McCoy felt that retrieving it at a time when the Captain would not be around to interfere was logical.

(If Vulcan’s felt worry, McCoy being logical would be a terrific reason.)

“So I asked you to come along, not only because you’re the strongest guy I know, but because even with Carol on board, this is more of your scientific area of expertise.” The doctor’s not-so-subtle reminder about the new science officer came as a back-handed compliment, as Spock’s mother would have said. 

“I understand, Doctor.” Bars of muted light fell across the two officers as they moved quickly through the corridors, creating a disembodying effect. Spock knew that with his human eyesight, McCoy was truly navigating by memory, having made emergency calls to almost every part of the ship. The man was a capable physician if nothing else.

Quickly the two entered the lighted brig area, the three security officers on duty still wide awake and watching carefully. Khan was sleeping on the bench farthest from the glass, his back turned to the officers in both a statement of disdain and a tactical need to shield himself from the light sources during sleep.

McCoy and Spock nodded to the officers and stepped up to the glass. Quickly, the doctor rapped on the surface, almost like a child at an old terran zoo, attempting to get the attention of one of the exhibits. Harrison was at the barrier in an instant, shocking McCoy so much that he stumbled back a few paces.

“Don’t do that! You just scared the living daylights out of me!” Spock’s eyebrows raised at the comment, as he had seen nothing exit the doctor, nothing but an exclamation of his usual type. Khan just laughed at McCoy’s discomfort, training his eyes on Spock. Blue-green eyes twinkled at the half-Vulcan’s confusion, as Khan turned to him, smiling mockingly.

“You still don’t understand them, do you Spock? Their odd phrases and emotions? You’ve lived with humans how many years now? 20? 25? Or at least you lived with _a_ human. She didn’t help you understand her people very well did she, your mother?” McCoy let out a muted swear and Spock did nothing, letting the insult slide off of him. It would not do to let loose at a barrier. There were other ways to seek revenge.

(It was a little known fact that Vulcan’s considered revenge in some cases to be _logical_.)

“I need your arm again Khan. Put it through the damn hole and don’t do anything stupid.” McCoy’s indignation on his behalf was strangely soothing, and Spock found himself wondering when the man had become important enough to him to create such a response. 

“He meant that I terrified him Spock. That I’m the things of his nightmares. That I could do horrifying things to people he loves and he couldn’t even stop me. No one is safe. Not even his little Joanna on Earth. Maybe not so little anymore, since she’d have to be a teenager now. Beautiful girl with long brown hair, eyes just like-”

“Stop!” McCoy’s voice shook, though his hands remained steady. “Just because you read a few personnel files during your work for Admiral Marcus doesn’t give you the right to threaten innocents.”

Khan’s eyes were luminous even in the brightly lit room.

“No one is innocent Doctor. Not even babes.”

Spock watched as McCoy silently capped his sample and Khan pulled his arm back through the hole in the wall. The human then turned, steadfastly ignoring the prisoner, and walked out, calm though Spock had seen the truth in the Doctor’s hazel eyes and felt the emotions rolling off the man.

He was terrified of Khan.

And for once Spock understood why.

(No amount of living diurnal luminesce was going to combat that fear.)


	27. This Takes the Cake

_This Takes the Cake: An event which outshines all other events in a specific manner._

                This couldn’t possibly be happening. If Vulcans dreamed, Spock would have been inclined to believe that he was standing in a nightmare. And not just any particular nightmare, the nightmare of a pre-pubescent teenage girl.

                The entire room was pink. Floors, ceiling, bed, curtains, even the toilet just noticeable through the open bathroom door. But that wasn’t the worst part, oh no, the worst part was the _size of everything_.

                Giant room. Tiny away team. Titan sized captors.

                “What the hell?” The ever pleasant, and by pleasant everyone meant grating, voice of Dr. McCoy announced to the saccharine room that he was awake. Spock agreed with the sentiment in principle, but would never have voiced his agreement out loud.  Next to them on the floor, Jim Kirk stirred and pulled himself into a sitting position.

                “Last week,” he groaned, “it was those dwarves-,”  Jim rubbed his eyes as Spock interrupted.

                “Liliputia-Minutaens, Captain.”

                A gold sleeved arm just waved away the comment. “Yeah, whatever, and the week before that it was those crazy greek gods. I’m still flinching anytime someone mentions Zeus. But this takes the cake. This week it’s the crazy nutters who are far too fricken big!”  Bones snorted, and muttered a comment about eloquent captains and diminished vocabularies.

“The inhabitants of Pixisney A11 are bigger than terran norm-”  Spock began, gearing up for full Vulcan lecture mode.

“Ya think?” Kirk shot back.

“But I fail to see how their size has anything to do with confections.” Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura, who had somehow been dragged along into the same ill-fated venture and knocked out for their troubles, attempted not to face palm. Now was not the time for Spock to be getting hung up on semantics, now was the time for him to figure out a way to get them out of this hot pink mess.

“Eet ez imperative, Keptain, that ve get out before the diplomat’s daughter comes back. I heard her call us her new toys.” Chekov’s voice held that nervous note that all young men’s did when contemplating the whims of a preteen girl.  Never mind a preteen girl who was 10 times bigger than him.

“Yeah Captain, I have nieces and I’ve seen how they treat their Barbies,” Sulu backed Chekov up, hoping that the Captain would focus more on their problem than on Spock’s confusion with terran figures of speech. “Those dolls don’t have legs anymore, or hair, or even heads sometimes. One of them was just an arm. I really don’t want to end up just an arm.” Sulu instinctively reached for his sword, only to find that, of course, their weapons were gone. Maybe their captor would have a toothpick he could commandeer?  

Jim nodded. “We’ll explain the cake later, Spock, right now we need to get out of here!” His exclamation was met with the creaking open of the hideously pink door. Sidney, the aforementioned daughter of Pixisney A11’s diplomatic envoy, joyously ran inside, scooping up Uhura and Chekov in her semi-truck sized hands.

“I’m  Sidney and I’m going to call you Bella!” she squealed, shaking Uhura so hard that Bones feared she would have whiplash. “And you, you’re going to be Edward!” Chekov let out a groan, and muttered that, _“Tvilight vas one thing not inwented in Russia, thank you wery much!”_   Sidney frowned at him.

“Daddy said that humans loved those books.”  Her hands squeezed reflexively.

“How far behind are your transmissions from Earth?” Jim asked fearing the answer. If the Pixisney A11’s thought they were still stuck in the 21st Century, there was a problem. A problem beyond a little (figuratively speaking) girl’s preteen fantasies. Sidney shrugged, stating that she just got what her parents gave her.

She was unconsciously squeezing Chekov so hard that he croaked out a very breathless assurance that humans in fact, loved Twilight oh yes, please let him breathe, he’d love to be Edward.

When she loosened her grip, he gasped loudly, wincing in such a way that it was obvious he was injured. Dr. McCoy exchanged a wordless look with Spock, a look that practically screamed _volunteer-to-be-her-Edward-she’s-gonna-kill-Chekov._ Even as a half-Vulcan, Spock was definitely more durable than Chekov, unfortunately he knew nothing about this ‘Twilight’, let alone who Edward was. (Not to mention that Vulcan’s did not do full body contact with hands).

“Chekov’s not brooding enough to be Edward,” Bones piped up, getting strange looks from the rest of the landing party. Who knew that the cantankerous doctor had seen or read the centuries old Earth series? It was common knowledge as a bad romance kind of thing, the characters were well known, but for the doctor to actually understand those characters? Jim stifled a snort, and shot Bones a look that was both gleeful and confused.  “Take Spock instead, he’s the perfect Edward.  Old, self-sacrificing, and a mysterious guy that attracts actual women.”

Spock was not pleased with this assessment.

Sidney however was delighted, snatching him up and proceeding to use him as her main doll.  When she sat down Chekov, Dr. McCoy ran forward and checked him over, confirming his fears. “Two cracked ribs Jim, we need to get him to the _Enterprise_.”  Jim frowned in consternation, checking the room for anything that could possibly help them escape. Sneaking a look at their enthusiastic kidnapper, he slowly edged towards the shuttle sized communicator laying on her desk.

Sidney wasn’t paying them any attention, instead forcing pink frosted cake down Uhura and Spock’s throats. Jim carefully flipped open the panel, and with the help of Sulu and Chekov, as his first was currently occupied giving a stilted romantic speech to a slightly amused Nyota, managed to connect the right wires to send out a fleet coded SOS. 

Jim was just about to high five his partners in crime (gently in the injured Chekov’s case) when Sidney’s hand came out of nowhere, scooping him up and declaring him “the most adorable pony in all of Ponyville!” She plopped a horse head on him and demanded he be ‘her little pony’.  

Jim’s muffled, “I am 100 percent done with this place,” was vaguely heard over the laughter of all but Spock. The laughter ended however, when Sidney designated and dressed Sulu as Voldemort, Chekov as Diego the Explorer, and Bones as Grumpy Carebear. They were all having a tea party and it was going to be very lovely.

The crew of the _Enterprise_ had never been happier to see the beams of light that indicated Scotty had performed another miracle. When they appeared in the transporter room all that stopped Scotty from dying of laughter was the glares of most of the entire command team.  Unfortunately, Scotty’s transporter beam had been a little wide and a little delayed in some aspects.

A frosted piece of pink cake that Sidney had dropped in surprise when her ‘dolls’ disappeared, materialized a few seconds too late, landing on the always stoic Spock. Shocked silence reigned for a moment before Spock spoke with the measured and calm he was well known for.

“I believe we took the cake captain.”

Jim dissolved into giggles, followed by everyone but the frosting dusted Vulcan.


	28. Two Peas in a Pod

_He/She/They Are Two Peas in a Pod: To be similar in nature and attitude, insofar as such similarities outweigh differences._

It was unfortunate, but landing parties seemed to be captured on a disturbingly regular basis. So regular that Spock was beginning to consider running a full statistical analysis in search of the cause.

If he had to watch Dr. McCoy pace another ridiculously tiny cell for hours on end for the 17th time in the nacent five year mission, Spock knew that it was going to be hard to repress a very un-Vulcan like sigh.

The one bright side to the whole situation was that the Captain was at least safe aboard the Enterprise. He had (of course) insisted on coming with them to explore the so-called uninhabited planet of Janus VI, but recent regulations had given Spock a bit more leeway in forcing the Captain to remain aboard the (relatively) safe ship.

It had seemed uninhabited for the first fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of uninterrupted exploration of what seemed like an idyllic and promising location for further scientific research.

On the sixteenth minute, the rocks attacked.

“Well, I guess we can say we’ve seen it all now,” Sulu muttered from his adjacent cell, where the aliens had also shepherded in Chekov.

“Oh yes,” Chekov replied cheerfully, “captured by lasagna monsters.”

“Lasagna? Maybe the Doc needs to check your eyes Chekov, that was lava.” Sulu laughed, still in high spirits despite the trail of acid their hosts left in their wake. McCoy stopped pacing for a moment and turned to his two innocently grinning shipmates.

“I’m not checkin’ anybody’s eyes until I get my equipment back, those darn rocks stole it!”

Spock resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Doctor, they did not steal your equipment, they destroyed it. By accident or design has yet to be determined.”

Bones turned to give him what was sure to be an emotionally laced diatribe when their ‘hosts’ returned and released Chekov and Sulu, moving them off down to the corridor, before either he or Spock could get a word in edgewise.

“They clearly have no idea of the chain of command.” Spock remarked, while casually testing the bars of their prison again.

“Don’t worry Spock,” McCoy waved a hand at him tiredly, “Chekov and Sulu are two peas in a pod, they’re going to be fine.”

Spock gave McCoy the infamous Vulcan eyebrow. “ Worry is a human emotion. Furthermore, Mr. Chekov and Mr. Sulu are not vegetables and I fail to see how this will assure their safety.”

McCoy just groaned. “I wish they taught a course on idioms to all Vulcans. It means that they’re really similar, alright? Because all the peas in a pea pod look the same? They’re going to be okay because they’re competent officers. Who knows, maybe the crazy looking rocks are friendly.”

“Do not assume that just because they are unfamiliar to you that they are ‘crazy looking’. That is an attitude not conducive to scientific discovery.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Spock, do you just pick apart what I say to-”

Their argument was interrupted by the return of one of the aliens. It bobbed up and down, skittering across the floor until it carved out letters.

_Friends?_

McCoy was speechless and Spock reached out a hand to the alien, realizing that a mind meld would be the most expedient way to understand what was going on.

An hour later Chekov and Sulu were returned unharmed (but ridiculously excited because they had gotten a glimpse at an entirely new civilization based on tunnels) and first contact had been made with a species that called itself the Horta.

Jim pouted for a week that he didn’t get to meet them first.  

 

 


	29. To Toss One's Cookies

**_To toss one’s cookies: The act of throwing up noisily and violently._ **

Sigma Iotia II was splendidly cerulean, spinning placidly in the viewscreen of the _Enterprise_ and for a moment Spock could almost imagine that it was blessedly safe and not the haven of a culture that had been presumably altered by an earlier starship.

Of course imagination was wholly human and Spock wouldn’t have admitted to having one. This could possibly be was why he was unable to fully predict the turn of events that was Captain James T. Kirk and an old fashioned car, being chased by angry gangsters with antique firearms.

“JIIIIM! I THOUGHT YOU COULD DRIVE!” Dr. McCoy’s frustrated and infuriated yelp was lost as the captain turned a corner on two wheels, their borrowed vehicle squealing along the street. 

To his credit the Captain didn’t take his eyes off the road, yelling back almost sheepishly, “It was my step-dad’s car! It wasn’t exactly in the best shape after I borrowed it.”

Spock felt himself asking the inevitable, “Captain, how badly damaged was that particular vehicle.”

Jim momentarily let go of the wheel as he spun the car in a circle to avoid the rocket launched by a particularly angry gangster who had somehow managed to get his hands on a bazooka. “Let’s just say it and the bottom of a gorge got to know each other real well!”

Spock felt his blood pressure tick up a few more notches.

“Captain, Uhura’s gonna toss her cookies if ya don’t drive a wee bit better lad!” Scotty’s panicked cry from the back seat resulted in Bones being concerned enough that he almost fell out of the vehicle when he turned to check on the Lieutenant who was a lovely shade of green and the car jolted through a pot hole.

“WHY DOESN’T THIS RUST BUCKET HAVE SEAT BELTS!? HAVEN’T THEY EVER HEARD OF ARRIVE ALIVE?!” Dr. McCoy’s bellow could be heard several streets away and attracted the rival gang who showed up in vehicles that were equipped with their own rocket propelled weaponry.

“I have nothing to throw at them.” Jim muttered as he slammed on the breaks, “Everybody bail out, we’re going on foot!” As they all jumped out of the vehicle dodging the crossfire, none of them were more delighted to feel and see the effects of the _Enterprise’s_ transporter as the ship transported them out of their gangster themed nightmare.

“Keptain, you did not check in for several hours so ve beamed you out.” Chekov seemed almost nervous and froze when the Captain hugged him. He had been the only one who was able to accurately teleport the moving landing party and so Sulu, who had been left in charge just in case, had assigned the young navigator to the job, hoping that they were doing the right thing, given the Captain’s annoyance at being removed from any adventure too early.

“You know that lecture I gave on beaming me out too early last week? Ignore it. You did the right thing.”

Spock turned to Dr. McCoy who was giving Uhura an anti-nausea medication and asked the question that he had filed away neatly during the middle of the fiasco that was Jim Kirk’s driving. “Lieutenant, why did you bring cookies with you on an away mission?” The look of confusion that Nyota gave him only added to Spock’s own.

“Cookies? Do you need Dr. McCoy to check you out too Spock?” She asked gently, worried for his sanity.

“I ask because Mr. Scott said-”

“I said that she was gonna toss her cookies, aye. It means that she was going to throw up, Mr. Spock.” Scotty interrupted him quickly, already back to his Silver Lady’s machinery and running diagnostics to see what had happened in his brief absence.

“I fail to see how throwing confections is analogous to such an act.”

Bones sighed, still trying to lower his blood pressure after riding shotgun with Jim. “Look, we can explain it later, right now we need to figure out how to retrieve a bit of lost technology.”

Everyone stared at the doctor who ruefully pointed to his belt and a glaringly missing communicator.

Jim groaned, “Looks like we’re going back guys.”


	30. Like a Bat Outta Hell

_Like A Bat Outta Hell: To move at an abnormally fast speed._

Life on the Fleet’s  flagship could be abnormally exciting one week and dull as a thousand year old knife the next one. After experiencing a week of the later, Spock was settling into some much wanted research time, putting the full strength of the _Enterprise’s_  not inconsiderable labs to work on a subject that for once did not involve saving the captain and crew within the hour or some other stupidly finite deadline.

No, Spock was researching some botany that was ‘near and dear to his heart’ as Dr. McCoy would have framed it, the propagation of Vulcan species which had been carried off long ago by travelers or exported by Vulcan scientists in attempts to study the effects of the void on their native flora.

Now these plants were all that was left of a widely diverse set of ecosystems, mere bits and piece of what was once a beautifully stark and wild whole. Spock was not excited, excitement was an emotion after all, but he was ready to start work on his project and had gotten metaphorically elbow deep in the work when the call came in.

“Mr. Spock, Captain Kirk wants you on the bridge. We’ve received a distress call from the planet Scalos and he needs your expertise. It appears deserted.”

“Acknowledged,” Spock’s clipped response did not express the secret regret he quashed as being un-Vulcan, relegating it to the back of his mind, the first officer made his way to the bridge in time to view the light side of the planet Scalos.

Sliding into his position at the science station, Spock reported his findings with long practiced ease. “Captain, no life forms though I am reading intricate and elaborate buildings and cities. I would recommend sending down a landing party with Architect subspecialist Lieutenant Aeesha Laila,  Lieutenant Commander Giotto and his crewmen, Dr. M’Benga, and-”

“Myself, of course!” Kirk’s enthusiasm was enough to dampen Spock’s attempts to remind his captain that he did not always need to accompany the landing parties, an argument that had lasted for the last few months and gained little traction. He had given up on trying to break the captain of his unsightly caffeine habit, as evidenced by the captain’s ridiculous “#1 Captain” mug (a gift from Sulu and Chekov on the man’s last birthday) sloshing lukewarm coffee delivered daily by Gally Crewman Compton all over the command chair when Jim jumped up in his excitement to see new worlds and new civilizations.  

If Spock had known the Captain would be disappearing in the next twenty minutes he would have argued a little bit harder.

The Captain’s disappearance coincided with a series of strange and eerie incidents aboard the ship. Plates knocked over in the mess hall with no discernable cause,  doors opening and shutting randomly when no crewmembers could have tripped the sensors, even a case where Nurse Chapel swore that a tray of hypos were floating across the room, only to clatter to the nearest biobed when she shrieked in surprise.

Dr. McCoy was convinced they were being haunted. Spock ignored him as this was no time for useless superstition.

Worst of all was the incessant buzzing that seemed to come out of nowhere, intensify, and fade.

During one such episode, Ensign Chekov, curious and concerned, recorded the buzzing as it seemed to center around Spock and ran an analysis on it. When Spock saw the young man bound up, his curls a wild mess and his blue eyes wider than norm for a human male, he deduced that the Russian had reached a viable conclusion that had nothing to do with spirits and spooks.

“Meester Spock, the buzzing is the Keptain!”

Vulcans did not do surprise but Spock’s eyes widened infinitesimally.

“Leesten to this sair!” Chekov hit play on his tricorder and immediately the bridge was filled with a very familiar voice.

“OH MY GOD SPOCK I AM ALMOST TOUCHING YOU! CAN’T YOU HEAR ME??? I AM MOVING FASTER THAN A BAT OUTTA HELL BUT YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO HEAR ME WITH YOUR RIDICULOUS VULCAN HEARING! WHAT IS THE POINT OF HAVING SUCH POINTY EARS IF YOU CAN’T CATCH MORE SOUND WITH THEM!?!”

There was a pause as their Captain seemed to take a breath and continued, “THE SCALOSIANS HAVE ME SPED UP TO THEIR SPEED. BUT I DON’T KNOW HOW AND THEY DIDN’T EXPLAIN.  I ONLY KNOW THAT COMPTON WAS HELPING THEM. SEND HELP SOON. THEIR QUEEN WANTS ME TO HAVE HER WEIRD ALIEN BABIES AND I REALLY AM NOT READY TO BE A FATHER. JUST ASK BONES. UH OH, THEY’RE COMING!”  the recording cut off as in accordance with the time the buzzing had stopped around Spock and the bridge was entirely silent.

“I assume that a ‘bat outta hell’ is fast?” Spock’s sardonic response to this entire exchange enveloped the feeling on the bridge rather well. Only their Captain could be captured by an alien species to be used for such purposes.

Dr. McCoy choked on air at Spock’s words and let out a strangled, “You did not just- was that a joke, hobgoblin???” He reached for Jim’s leftover coffee and suddenly it clicked for Spock, the Vulcan lunging forward to grab the doctor’s sleeve before he could go any further.

“Doctor, Crewman Compton delivered that coffee to the Captain. I believe we should test it first.” McCoy’s face turned ashen and he handed over the mug gingerly, a grateful nod the only indication of his thanks.

Spock now found himself using the labs for their usual purpose, this time in conjunction with Dr. McCoy and between them both they managed to isolate the acceleration agent and reverse engineer it.

Tracking the abnormally paced Scalosians was easier with the help of Scotty’s engineering brilliance and soon they had the aliens slowed down to normal and their Captain back.

Kirk later revealed that the Scalosians wanted the entire crew for their new gene pool, leaving Spock privately fine that they had offloaded the troublesome aliens onto the next inhabitable planet with the same speed as the proverbial bat.


	31. Dumber Than a Bag Full of Hammers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone still reading my work even with my sporadic updates. As this fic will attest, I actually have a huge love for Dr. M’Benga of TOS and Christine Chapel, consider this their day in the fic limelight for AOS. For those who may have seen the wonderful Deep Space Nine, keep an eye out for everyone’s favorite Pah Wraith Megalomanic Space Lizard. To those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, hang on and enjoy the ride but also spoilers if you don’t know Gul Dukat. XD

_Dumber Than A Bag Full of Hammers: To be incredibly and unceasingly stupid, i.e. intellect that is dull as a blunt object._

Dr. Geoffrey M’Benga had long ago decided that his friend and boss, Leonard McCoy, was right about a wide variety of universal constants, in particular that the _Enterprise should never be too quiet_. When the _Enterprise_ was quiet, the Gorn attacked, Tribbles overran the air ducts, and old enemies of the captain, in particular one persistent Janice Lester, switched places with their commanding officers in strange but effective bids to run the Fleet flagship – or at the very least run it into the atmosphere of the nearest planet.

Now that they were in the deeper fringes of space, passing the peaceful but unaligned planet of Bajor and, a little earlier, the also unaligned yet more politically chaotic planet of Cardassia heading out into the relatively unpopulated areas beyond, it was quieter than ever.

That worried Geoff, it really did. The only thing preventing him from pacing the length of sickbay and driving not only Nurse Chapel, but Dr. McCoy, insane was the fact that Spock had lent him a devilishly hard Vulcan logic puzzle and it was quite literally a cure for boredom.

The fact that McCoy was letting one of the major members of his staff work on Vulcan Brain Teasers was a testament to how dull the week had been. At least someone, McCoy had muttered, was keeping their brain sharp. Christine had merely laughed and proceeded to organize the supply closets for the 17th time and then start in on physical rosters that weren’t due for another three months.  

He had just made a minor breakthrough in the puzzle when the ship shuddered and the lights of sickbay cut completely out. The sound of McCoy’s irate southern swearing and Chapel’s tired groan let Geoff know that his companions were well enough.

Reaching for his tricorder, Geoff sighed in relief as it lit up a small area around him, the handy flashlight function that Chief Engineer Scott had included finally getting the use he had promised it would have. Sickbay looked the same, minus power, and plus a pretty angry CMO and a ruffled head nurse.

“I swear on my medical license, if this is because some omnipotent being decided to grab us again I don’t care if he’s Alexander “Ten Dollar Founding Father” Hamilton, I’m going to kick his ass!” McCoy stumbled into the pool of light adding his tricorder to the illumination.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t fight incorporeal beings, Leonard.” Christine’s exasperation was fond as she joined them, glancing around the darkened sickbay with worry. How would they take in patients without power?

“And that was one time with Abe Lincoln, boss man,” Geoff threw in, remembering the time that the Captain’s favorite historical figure had stopped by for more than a chat. “He’s much less likely to actually challenge you to a duel than A.Ham. Besides what’s the chance that it’s another -” the shuddering commenced again and the doctors and nurse froze, listening intently.

“We need to make it to the bridge. Jim’s probably managed to get himself into some fool sort of trouble again.” McCoy’s words were harsh, his expression betraying his fear to Chapel and M’Benga. People could say what they wanted about McCoy’s prickly nature, when it came to those he cared about the man was all marshmallow. James T. Kirk had permanently landed himself in the Doctor’s heart, sharing the space with a not-so-emotionless Vulcan and the rest of the bridge and sickbay crew.

“Do you think the turbo lifts are reliable?” Christine’s question was met with silence as the two doctors thought it over. McCoy finally shook his head no.

“Chris, as much as I’d love to believe they are, I’d rather not end up deader than Geoff’s taste in music.”

“I would resent that, if it were untrue.”

Fifteen minutes later had the three medical professionals, armed with phasers and their ubiquitous hyposprays cracking open the doors to the bridge to a sight that was unfortunately all too familiar despite never having seen this particular conquering visitor before.

Standing in a coronal haze of crackling red energy was a pontificating lizard alien. He looked like the cobra-esque cousin of the Gorn with questionable taste in hair gel and mad scarlet eyes. Currently he was focused on ranting at their Captain and First Officer, having immobilized every other bridge member. He paid no attention to the suddenly jimmied open lift door in the corner, instead too busy on gloating to really see what was happening. Getting a better look at him, Geoff realized that their intruder was actually one of those Cardassian’s they had just had the dubious pleasure of meeting.

Just a remarkably demented one. With psychosis. And telekinesis. You know, just another Wednesday on the Enterprise.

“YOU WILL SURRENDER YOUR VESSEL TO THE GLORY OF THE PAH WRAITHS!!!!!” Jim Kirk merely sent another long suffering look at his first officer, frozen right next to him but able to turn his head.

“Look Gul Whatever, if I haven’t given you the codes to unlock the helm at this point, what makes you think I’m going to give them to you after the 15th spittle filled ask? Like seriously, your name should be Gul Do Not, because do not pass go, do not collect $200, and do not try to take my ship. You can’t have it!” Jim seemed proud of his speech, but next to him Spock was discretely rolling his eyes and a barely audible groan could be heard from the various frozen bridge members.

“MY NAME IS GUL DUKAT, EMISSARY OF THE TRUE PROPHETS AND YOU WILL KNEEL!”

Spock and Kirk’s knees hit the deck hard, both men forced to look up at the maniacal alien. “What does kneeling accomplish?” Spock’s question was bone dry, Vulcan wit at its finest.

“I mean it’s not like we believe you now from the floor or whatever.” Jim chimed in, staring in bored defiance at the Cardassian.

“We have gone over this puny human, I need your ship so as to ruin the life of my nemesis Benjamin Sisko, the false-” Geoff tuned him out in time to see that McCoy had come up with a plan. Miming with his hands, the CMO motioned out a plan.

Nodding their agreement, Christine grasped her hypo tightly and began to crawl around the edge of the bridge, knowing that the Captain and first officer had Dukat distracted and monologing. Kirk and Spock, spotting the movement behind their captor’s back tried to distract him harder.

“What did this Sisko guy ever do to you?”

“HE IS THE ANTITHESIS OF MY BEING! THE FALSE EMISSARY OF THE FALSE PROPHETS! A BALD, RIDICULOUS, SELF-RIGHTEOUS, BUG! And,” the sudden switch to a calm tone almost jarred the crouching doctors, worried that he had spotted Christine who was almost into place. “I will have this ship and your crew. I will have it all including Benjamin Lafayette Sisko’s head on a platter! I will-”

McCoy and M’Benga darted out phasers up, feeling the instant pull of Dukat’s powers as they served as the perfect distraction their shot’s going wide, watching in satisfaction as Christine jabbed the hypo full of sedative into Dukat’s scaly neck.

“Have a hypo. Because you’re dumber than a bag full of hammers.” Christine finished for him, with a grin.

“Of course he is,” Geoff laughed, “He forgot to immobilize medical.”

McCoy rushing forward to check Jim and Spock could be heard muttering, “Perfect prescription for idiocy.”

The bridge crew finding themselves suddenly as mobile as McCoy and M’Benga, stretched and groaned, working out kinks and stiff muscles.

“Did you have to wait for like half an hour to rescue us Bones? I was really starting to hate the sound of that guy’s voice. I feel really sorry for this Sisko guy if this is who he has to put up with.” Kirk was back to his nonstop bubbly self, leaving McCoy to ignore him in favor of Spock.

“No injuries to report Doctor.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” McCoy’s scan was interrupted by a flash of light as Dukat vanished. “Well I’ll be, what in blue blazes?”

“Maybe he ran out of time?” Spock’s comment had Chekov giggling and Sulu doubling over while Jim lost it and Bones fought a smile. “Nurse Chapel, on a scale of swallowing Mr. Scott’s alcohol to challenging Mr. Sulu over fencing, just how dumb is a bag full of hammers? I am asking for purely scientific reasons of course.”

Christine merely shook her head. “Quite dumb indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this one way back in May and sometimes it takes me a while to finish things. Any inconsistencies in Dukat and the way the Enterprise works here can be attributed to my being exhausted and alternate realities.


	32. To Kick the Can Down the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting on my to-do list for a long time! Good news: I’m done with First Year of Med School! Bad News: It only gets more busy from here folks! But that doesn’t mean I’m stopping, just slowing down. ;)

**_To Kick the Can Down the Road:  Prolong confrontation of a situation/problem until a later date._ **

When James Kirk yawned for the 15th time in two hours during their latest stellar charting mission, Spock raised an eyebrow at his somnolent Captain, wondering if he had been up late for a legitimate reason or because the _Enterprise_ had recently received an upgrade that included the latest Earth entertainment. The Captain had matured quite a bit over the last four years, but the lack of excitement was taxing on the unique and creative mind of Jim Kirk and, when forced to deal with the decidedly unexciting prospect of mapping without interacting, often lead him to seek intellectual stimulation elsewhere.  It was an unfortunate situation for the adrenaline loving man, but the quite logical revenge (and there was a phrase which would have caused never-ending emoting from Dr. McCoy should Spock ever utter it) of the admiralty over the Amerind situation. Spock’s own refusal to leave orbit until the ship had found their missing and amnesiac captain had been met with less than co-operative responses, although he’d learned quite quickly that ‘madder than a wet hen’ was a legitimate way Terran’s described the rather unseemly color Admiral Nogura had turned.

(If he could have spared the Captain the pain of the trip, he would have. Alas, there was nothing to do when the admiralty believed the best use of the _Enterprise_ was star charting – except find trouble, which was completely against the Vulcan Way.)

When Lieutenant Uhura began to yawn as well, head gracefully drooping over her communications station, Spock felt the first stirrings of confusion as Nyota was always quite professional. She would never have allowed herself to fall asleep while performing her duties, always preferring to pass off her job to, as she put it, ‘a fresher pair of eyes’. His confusion only grew upon glancing at the helm and navigation station to find that Chekov and Sulu were both passed out, with Chekov lightly snoring and Sulu drooling all over the controls.

“Misters Sulu and Chekov,” the Vulcan’s stern voice held all the friendliness of ice melt, “ If you are unfit for your duties, call in replacements.” The terrible twosome, as the navigator and helmsman were called by the majority of the crew, snoozed on, and Spock took the opportunity to see that the whole bridge was asleep and had likely become so while he’d spent 5.3 minutes focused on the Captain and Admiralty.

No amount of claxons, shaking, or cold water seemed to rouse them.

Spock punched the comm button on the captain’s chair, delicately avoiding the Captain himself, who was what Spock’s late mother would have termed a ‘hugger’. “Bridge to Sickbay, Dr. McCoy come in.”

There was nothing but silence on the other end and a very un-Vulcan sense of frustration began to set in.

“Bridge to Engine Room, Mr. Scott, are you there?”

Silence.

“Bridge to Shipwide, all officers still awake, report in.”

Thankfully there was no silence this time. Calls flooded in from several sections of the ship, mainly crew quarters, where confused off-duty crewman wanted to know why the call had been sent out. Call by call it became very clear to Spock why these crewmembers were awake.

None of them were human.

In a matter of moments he had a relief crew on the bridge, consisting of Lieutenants Gaila, M’ress, and Arex, and had transmitted the pertinent information to the remaining members of the crew, sending out search parties to check on the human crew members who may have fallen asleep in the middle of potentially life threatening duties.

(He had doubts about leaving Mr. Keenser in charge of engineering, but his doubts were outweighed by his trust in their Chief Engineer’s judgment. Keenser would not have been in Engineering if Montgomery Scott thought he was unworthy of touching his “bairns”. )

All that remained was to determine why their human counterparts were all asleep and to battle the encroaching somnolence that Spock could feel just tugging at his consciousness, pulling him inexorably towards the blackness of slumber.

Spock’s human half might have felt the call of Morpheus, but his Vulcan half could and would overpower that, able to go days without sleep if necessary in defense of the ship. Yet he wondered what it was that had caused the issue, whether it were alien interference or the after effects of a chemical released onto the ship either by as yet unseen enemies or a curious crewmember with a penchant for picking up less than helpful oddities.

Having recruited Lieutenant-Commander  Emony Dax as his acting Second, given that  due to the interrupted chain of command she was the next available Command Track officer, Spock finalized his orders for the remainder of the crew and the two headed to the science labs, hoping that a more in-depth scan of the ship.

The Trill next to him seemed content to shadow him, following a pace behind and keeping a watchful eye on the hallways they traversed, as if she expected an attack at any moment. Given that the _Enterprise_ was gaining quite the reputation as the quadrant’s greatest danger magnet and the fact that despite her young age, the Dax symbiont gave Emony two additional lifetimes of experience in addition to its own, Spock considered her actions logical.

One could never be too careful on the _Enterprise._

The scan yielded nothing promising, as the ship was operating under normal parameters as far as the equipment was concerned. Spock had been readying the equipment for a second run through of the diagnostic equipment when his communicator went off.

“M’Ress to Acting Captain Ssspock,” the Caitian’s voice purred over the open channel, “Admirals Komack and Nogura want to know the status of our star chartingggg.” Spock felt an uncharacteristic urge to rub a hand down his face, burying the impulse deeply as he decided that now was not the best time to waste hours describing the progress of their latest endeavors in the stellar cartography division to the two cranky and exacting members of Starfleet’s governing body.

“Please have Ensign Zzort” and here Dax let out a chuckle at the mental image of their newest Horta crewmember briefing the impatient admirals, “deliver the appropriate information. We have more work to do here Lieutenant.”

The soft laughter on the open channel before her affirmation let Spock know that M’Ress also found the decision funny. “I fail to see the humor in my choice,” Spock replied to Dax’s lingering laughter, “Ensign Zzort is quite capable of explaining the advances the _Enterprise_ has logged.”

Dax snorted, “Yeah I’d have kicked that can down the road too, Boss Man.” Spock mentally sighed, thinking drily that only a Trill would take the situation so cavalierly. But if he’d learnt anything over the last four years it was, as Dr. McCoy was so fond of proclaiming, ‘to loosen up’. In this situation, it was better to humor Dax’s less than respectful language, as she meant no harm. Although…

“And what ‘can’ would that be Lieutenant – Commander?”

Dax, already busy scrolling through a pad of the latest updates from their scattered crew, frowned in confusion. “It’s a saying, Mr. Spock, that the Terrans are quite fond of. I personally have no idea why you’d want to litter on your roadways, but they use it to mean putting off a problem. And before you correct me, I think the Admiralty in this case _are a problem_. So putting Zzort on it works because that kid can quote regulations forwards and backwards and probably dreams of the star charts, given he’s worked on them from the very start and works long hours.”

Spock nodded, appreciating that her assessment of Zzort matched his, albeit in less emotional terms.

An additional thirty minutes of work proved fruitless and the two began their return to the bridge when Keenser commed from Engineering to let them know that there was a device, wedged deep into the deck, one that was most definitely _not part of Engineering._

Detouring to the engine room, the duo were confronted with an angry Keenser and a blinking rectangular box, the size of an antique Earth matchbox, jammed into the plating just beyond the opening hatch of a little used Jefferies tube. Due to the interference of the engines, the small box had gone undetected by Spock’s scans and, currently, seemed to be inactive as a tricorder sweep showed that it wasn’t giving off any energy at that moment.

Leaning forward to get a better look at it, which in hindsight wasn’t the best of choices, the lights stopped flashing and Spock collapsed almost instantly, sleep claiming him like a ten ton weight on his chest.

The half-Vulcan crumpled to the deck, leaving a confused Trill and a Roylan in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, a cliffhanger. For those who may recognize the Dax symbiont from Deep Space Nine, I have taken advantage of the alternate timeline and allowed Emony to go from gymnast to Starfleet Officer. What can I say, I like the Dax’s!


End file.
